


the shadows spill across the floor (they’re in your heart, darling)

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: (But It Sure Makes For Some Angst), (Spoilers They're Not), Aftercare, Aftercare is Very Important Children, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, As She Deserves, Bisexual Garcia Flynn, Bisexual Lucy Preston, Bisexual Wyatt Logan, Biting, Blindfolds, Bondage, Breathplay, Choking, Collars, Conception Difficulties, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Domme Lucy, Double Vaginal Penetration, Edging, F/F, F/M, Fingering, Forced Orgasms, Frottage, Gags, He Pretends He's Not But Let's Be Honest Here, He Soon Proves Himself Wrong, Heavy BDSM, Human Disaster Garcia Flynn, I think that's everything, Jess and Wyatt are Platonic Co-Parents, Kink Negotiation, Lap Sex, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oh god where do I even start, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Pegging, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Restraints, Rimming, Rufus is the Only Straight Here, Sequel, Shower Sex, Size Kink, Size Queen Lucy, Size Queen Wyatt, Smut in Pretty Much Every Chapter, So much smut, Spanking, Spreader Bars, Sub Flynn, Sub Wyatt Logan, Switch Flynn, Talking About Consent is Sexy!, Threesome - F/M/M, Triumphantly, Vaginal Fisting, Vibrators, Voice Kink, Wyatt Logan is a Sub, Wyatt Logan's Bisexuality Crisis, Wyatt Thinks He's Vanilla, Wyatt Thinks They're Just Using Him For Sex, Yes Stacy Returns, bit of a slow burn, for now, pregnancy difficulties, slight kid fic, so much kink negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2019-10-20 21:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 106,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17630246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: It's been a couple of years since Rittenhouse was defeated and everyone has settled into finding their way back to ordinary lives. Wyatt and Jessica are trying to co-parent while just being friends, Amy Preston exists again, and Lucy and Flynn would like a child of their own.Oh, there is the small matter of also wanting to get Wyatt to join in on their sex lives. And Wyatt being desperately in love with both of them for about two years now. But Wyatt doesn't know the first thing about BDSM, and he's pretty damn convinced that Lucy and Flynn wouldn't ever want him.Let the education of Wyatt Logan begin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the thing with shadows is (they come from light, from somewhere)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368805) by [madsthenerdygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl). 



> This is, technically, a sequel to my previous fic. However, that fic is Garcy-centric (although there are hints of Wyatt's growing feelings if you care to look for them) and is perfectly capable of standing on its own and so I'm not making them an official series so that those who just want Garcy can have that fic and ignore this one. But for those of you who want to read this Garcyatt fic, you'll have to read the previous one first in order to understand a lot, although I do my best to summarize events.
> 
> And again: please read tags carefully to avoid anything that squicks you out. For those of you who thought I'd exhausted all my kinks in the previous BDSM fic... oh, you sweet summer children.

Wyatt cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, stirring the pasta with one hand and keeping an eye on Joy with the other. “C’mon, c’mon, pick up you son of a—Lucy!”

“Wyatt.” Lucy didn’t sound terribly annoyed to be called right at dinnertime. Probably because Wyatt called Flynn for parenting advice constantly. Even when Jess was standing right there. “Everything all right?”

“Joy said…” Wyatt glanced to make sure that his nearly two-year-old daughter couldn’t hear him. “…she said fuck. Jess is gonna kill me.”

He and Jess had, in the couple of years since they’d defeated Rittenhouse (through infiltrating a sex club, which sounded like the start of a softcore porno or one of those ‘edgy’ crime shows) gone from angry and hurt and barely able to be in the same room together to cool and distant to actual friends. Wyatt was starting to wonder if this was how they were always supposed to be. Sure, sharing an apartment with his baby mama where he slept in a different room was a little awkward at times, but they made it work. They’d become close again, making up for their mistakes and the ways they’d hurt each other, and he could honestly say that he trusted Jess with anything.

Didn’t mean she wouldn’t kill him if she found out he’d accidentally taught their daughter a swear word.

Lucy burst into giggles on the other end. “It’s not funny!” Wyatt protested. “Get Flynn on the line, what did he do?”

There was more giggling, then rustling, then a much deeper graveling voice said, “Wyatt, every kid picks up bad words at some point. She doesn’t know what it means, she’s just looking for a reaction. If you don’t react to it, she’ll stop saying it.”

Wyatt inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” The amused smile Flynn had to be sporting was evident in his voice.

Wyatt swallowed down the almost-bearable rush of heat that shot through him.

He’d long gotten used to the fact that he’d never fallen out of love with Lucy. And he’d then forced himself to get used to the fact that he was also in love with Flynn.

Didn’t mean it was fun.

“Where’s Jess?” Flynn asked. “Isn’t it dinnertime?”

“She’s got some work at the bar she’s taking care of.” Jess had been an investigative reporter in the timeline that Wyatt remembered, which was why Kate Drummond had so reminded him of her. But in this timeline, Rittenhouse had manipulated her into continuing to lean on them by keeping her just a bartender, a dead-end customer service job that forced her to find fulfillment in her Rittenhouse work.

But now, she’d worked her ass off and with some financial assistance from Mason (a loan, Jess insisted, not a gift), she was opening up her own bar, complete with a jukebox and pool tables. Jess was going to be her own boss. It had been two years in the making and she was so excited, Wyatt could feel it radiating off of her.

“Ah.” There was a pause. “You know, you and Joy could come over here and join us, if you wanted.”

Wyatt looked down at the pasta he’d started making.

…it would keep if he put it in the fridge, right?

“We’d love that,” Wyatt said, and then immediately winced at the word choice. “We’ll be over in twenty.” He looked over at Joy. “Hey, ladybug, you want to go see Aunt Lucy and Uncle Flynn?”

“Yes yes yes!” Joy chanted.

“Can you hear that?”

Flynn chuckle seemed to slide right down Wyatt’s spine. “Yeah, I heard. Lucy’ll be glad to see her.”

Lucy and Flynn didn’t have kids yet—Wyatt wasn’t sure why, when he was pretty sure they both wanted at least one. He hadn’t dared to ask.

“We’ll be right over.”

“See you then.”

Wrangling Joy into the car took a couple of minutes, but then they were on their way. The little miscreant darted out of the car the minute Wyatt got her unbuckled, chanting “Lucy Lucy Lucy up up up!” until Lucy, who’d emerged from the front door, obliged her.

“How’s our little lady, hmm?” Lucy asked.

The only baby of the bunker group so far, Joy was shamelessly spoiled.

Lucy secured Joy in her arms as Wyatt walked up, smiling at him. His stupid, traitorous heart thumped wildly. He’d been a dick to her, he could admit that. And he had no regrets about stepping aside so that Lucy could be with Flynn. If he’d kept fighting for her, it would’ve been unhealthy, and he would have only made everyone else miserable.

And above all, he wanted Lucy to be happy. Flynn made her happy.

Lucy made Flynn happy, as well.

Wyatt couldn’t, wouldn’t ever, ruin that.

“How are you?” Lucy asked, her voice soft, as if she hadn’t seen him in months when really she’d seen him two days ago.

“I’m good.” Wyatt grinned. He was good, for the most part. “Something smells good.”

“Ask Flynn,” Lucy said, leading them inside. “I was only in charge of getting the I-C-E C-R-E-A-M for later.”

Joy snuggled into Lucy’s shoulder and Wyatt’s heart just about broke. Jess was Joy’s mom and he loved watching the two of them, their blonde heads bent together playing blocks, or Jess singing Joy lullabies. But if he could’ve—if he’d been a lucky enough bastard to get it, he would’ve liked Joy to also see Lucy and Flynn as…

Well. He wasn’t going to get what he wanted and so there wasn’t any use thinking about it.

“Hey,” Flynn said, grinning at him as he took something out of the oven. Flynn was the cook in their household. Lucy had once nearly exploded popcorn in the microwave. “Glad you could make it.”

“Oh, yeah, had to make time out of my busy schedule,” Wyatt said. His job as a private investigator gave him pretty flexible hours.

“Is Jess nervous?” Lucy asked. “Amy went over to help her out some more.”

Amy Preston, having been rescued from the fate of non-existence, was getting her masters in sociology and helping Jess set up the bar in her free time.

“She just wants everything to be perfect for the opening,” Wyatt said, as Joy noticed Flynn and let out a shriek that Wyatt was pretty sure alerted all the dogs in the neighborhood.

Flynn took Joy while Wyatt helped Lucy set the table, cooing to her in Croatian. Joy knew a few words now, and Wyatt, who didn’t speak a lick of it, had to pray that none of those words were swears.

“So when are you two going to…” Wyatt whispered, indicating Flynn who was now giving Joy a piggyback ride.

A shadow crossed over Lucy’s face. “We’ve been trying.”

“Trying? For how long?”

“Over a year.” Lucy’s hands shook slightly as she set down the plates. “We think maybe it’s because of the time travel.”

Jess hadn’t time traveled yet when she’d gotten pregnant. Wyatt’s stomach knotted, going cold. “Rufus and Jiya…?”

“They wanted to wait a couple of years to have a kid, Jiya’s not even thirty yet. So we don’t know.”

“Ah.” Wyatt tried to put a smile on his face. “You can always adopt.”

“It’s something we’ve started to consider. And I’m not sure—Rittenhouse genes and all. I know it’s stupid to be paranoid but.” Lucy shrugged. “But Flynn really wants a biological child and… yes. That’s where we’re at.”

Wyatt nodded, and then Flynn was coming over with Joy and the conversation ended, switching over to asking Flynn about his work at his personal security firm.

“Guess who walked into the office yesterday,” Flynn said. He glanced over at Wyatt, who’d just been pushing his food around while he listened. “Eat.”

Wyatt felt himself growing hot, praying nobody noticed the flush in his face. He knew it didn’t mean anything but when Flynn and Lucy said things like that he couldn’t help but wonder how an order like that would sound if they meant it, if it was said in the bedroom, in his ear while hands trailed down his body…

He hastily stuffed some food into his mouth before he did something ridiculous like drool.

“Um… I don’t know,” Lucy said. Joy babbled something.

“Stacy.”

“Yes!” Lucy grinned in victory. “I knew she’d come at some point.”

“She wants a change of pace, asked if I had any openings. I told her of course.”

Wyatt grinned, helping Joy eat. “I’d love to see her, man, it’s been years.” Stacy Martindale had been in Delta with him before she’d quit and had eventually gone to work as private security-slash-secretary in the BDSM club where Lucy had gone undercover.

“I should have her stop by for dinner sometime to see you two,” Flynn said.

The bottom dropped out of Wyatt’s stomach. When Flynn said it like that, it sounded like Wyatt was always going to be over for dinner, every night, like he lived with them.

Sometimes he hated that. How casual and welcoming Lucy and Flynn were to him. It made him feel dirty almost, like he was taking advantage of them, and then he felt like shit for wanting more from them than they would ever want from him.

“Wyatt, breathe,” Lucy ordered quietly.

Wyatt realized he wasn’t breathing and inhaled sharply. Fuck, he needed a distraction. He focused on getting Joy to finish her food instead.

Joy conked out on Wyatt’s lap on the couch, so they stealthily ate ice cream while Lucy complained about her students. She and Flynn had gone to Oxford for a year on a fellowship, traveling Europe, but now Lucy was back at Stanford. “Are you still thinking of getting your own place, Wyatt?” she asked at one point.

Wyatt stroked Joy’s back, which helped soothe her. She was a light sleeper. “Right now it’s working fine. If Jess found someone and they wanted to move in together or if I had someone… that would be a different story.”

“I’m shocked neither of you have found anyone.”

“I think there’s someone for Jess, she’s come home kind of… y’know. Floaty.”

Flynn snorted.

“Not for you, though?” Lucy asked.

Wyatt swallowed. No. The two people he’d found were perfectly happy without him. “Nah. But I’m okay with that. Making up for lost time, I guess, after being with Jess for so long.”

Lucy looked a trifle sad at that, even though she was smiling at him. Flynn was looking at a spot on the wall. Wyatt cast around for something to say to fix the weird pit they’d stumbled into, and saw the clock. “Oh, fuck, I should take Joy home.”

Flynn got Joy secured into the car seat while Wyatt hugged Lucy. “Hey, about the… thing, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“I will.” Lucy shrugged, her eyes glittering. “It could be me, with the time travel. Maybe we need a surrogate.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Nobody would be better parents than Lucy and Flynn.

“Drive safe,” Flynn told him, letting his hand drop onto Wyatt’s shoulder. He and Flynn didn’t hug, or touch very much at all. Wyatt knew it was his fault. Flynn was perfectly fine hugging Rufus hello and goodbye.

Wyatt just knew that there were some lines he couldn’t cross, for his own sake. “I’ll let you guys know when we’re home safe.”

He put Joy to sleep in her crib, trying not to think about Flynn’s dark eyes on his, his warm, large hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, or Lucy’s soft body up against his as she’d hugged him, her warm mouth as she’d kissed him goodbye on the cheek. The way she’d quietly ordered him to breathe. The way the corners of Flynn’s eyes crinkled up as he smiled.

Fuck.

Wyatt hopped into the shower, pretty much the only guaranteed place he could do anything with any measure of privacy living with his ex-wife and baby daughter. He dug his teeth into his bicep, smothering the noises with his arm as he stroked himself hard and fast, imagining other hands on him, imagining small lithe hands tying him down onto the bed, imagining a hot, stubbled mouth on his inner thighs, large rough hands spreading him open, lipstick smearing on his mouth as Lucy kissed him, kissed him, told him to be good, Flynn inside him, fucking him, the two of them, _fuck_ —

He slumped against the shower wall, water getting in his eyes, washing away the evidence but not the shame.

God, he needed a drink.

 

* * *

 

Lucy pulled herself together as Wyatt left with Joy for the night. She’d known that people would start asking questions eventually. And of all people, she trusted Wyatt with the information. He was over at their house pretty much every night.

Speaking of which.

Lucy looked over at Flynn, who was washing the ice cream bowls. He and Wyatt had already taken care of the dinner dishes earlier while she’d played with Joy. Back when Wyatt had started coming over a lot, bringing Joy with him, Lucy had called Jess to ask if it was all right. The last thing she wanted was for Jess to feel usurped in her parenthood.

“Oh, please do, babysit her all you want,” Jess had said. “Wyatt could use the good example and God knows I’m swamped with this bar thing right now.”

So Wyatt kept coming over, bringing Joy.

Lucy walked over to her husband—the husband she very much adored. “Garcia?”

She laid a hand on his arm and Flynn turned off the water, looking at her. “Mmm?”

Lucy reached up, gently running the pads of her fingers down the side of his face, cupping his jaw. “Kiss me.”

Flynn obliged her, bending down, letting her put her hands on his shoulders to balance. “Leave it,” she whispered, tugging at his shirt. “Come with me.”

Flynn quickly dried off his hands, letting her kiss him and tug him through the house and upstairs to the bedroom. “I think it’s time we were honest with each other,” she told him, her tone light.

She knew what that tone did to Flynn, the tease and command that were in it at the same time flipping that switch inside of him. Flynn’s hands roamed all over her, helping to peel her clothes off as they stumbled down the hall and finally fell onto the bed. “Oh? What about?”

Lucy straddled him, yanking his shirt up over his head and then bending down to worry a nipple between her teeth, relishing the hiss that Flynn let out. She kissed up his chest to his neck, making him shudder underneath her. “About Wyatt,” she whispered.

Flynn went tense immediately. “I—”

“Shh.” Lucy put a finger to his lips. “Do I look upset?”

Flynn’s gaze roamed over her face. He shook his head. Lucy removed her finger from his lips. “No, ma’am.”

“Very good. I’m not.” She slid her hands down his sides and back up again, soothing him. “You’ve been playing rather fast and loose with him, haven’t you?”

She undid his pants, toying with the hem, feeling him getting hard against her. Lucy bit her lip, anticipation thrumming through her. God, she couldn’t wait to have him inside her.

But first.

Flynn arched an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been playing rather fast and loose yourself. Ordering him to breathe and to load the dishwasher?”

Yes, all right, so she’d been testing out a long-standing theory about Wyatt’s submissiveness. She’d noticed it when they’d first started working together as a team, and especially when she’d slept with him at Hedy’s, but then she’d set aside any attraction to Wyatt as she’d fallen in love with Flynn. It had only been in the last year, as Wyatt had started to really clean up his act, that she’d started to get that buzz under her skin again when she saw him.

Especially when she saw him interacting with Flynn.

Wyatt had never so much as breathed a word about his sexuality to either of them but she’d seen how he would get when Flynn touched him, the way Wyatt’s eyes would go wide and his face would get pink. And sometimes, he would look at Flynn when he thought Lucy couldn’t see, his gaze trailing up Flynn’s body, a look of immense hunger and guilt on his face.

Lucy couldn’t help but wonder, because she saw Flynn looking back, saw the hot, possessive look on Flynn’s face when Wyatt did what he said, the way he reached out to touch Wyatt only to stop himself short, the way he got a little growl in his voice when he asked Wyatt to pass him the salt or to hand him the remote. And she wondered what it would be like to see the two of them, to whisper instructions in their ears, to help Flynn pin Wyatt down to fuck him hot and hard while Wyatt begged—

“Maybe I have been,” Lucy admitted. Flynn lifted his hips and Lucy pushed his pants down, taking his cock in her hand, slowly stroking it. Flynn’s hands clenched in the sheets, well versed in the rules by now: no touching until Lucy said. “He likes it.”

“He does,” Flynn said, his voice strangled.

Lucy stopped touching him, crooking her finger at him. Flynn sat up. “Touch me,” she ordered. “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Flynn’s eyes were black as they locked onto hers. His hands slid down her body, one anchoring her thigh and the other trailing down her stomach, between her legs. Lucy arched as he drew a finger along her folds, tracing around her clit.

“So I’m not wrong,” Lucy whispered. She braced her hands on Flynn’s shoulders as he kissed her collarbone, her breasts, his finger stroking slowly, teasing. She kissed along his jaw. “Hmm? Am I? You want him. Same as me.”

Flynn curled his finger inside of her and her breath hitched, his other hand sliding around to her lower back, lifting her up, supporting her. “Maybe,” he replied, still playing coy. “Depends on how you want him.”

“I had a few ideas.” She sealed her mouth over Flynn’s. She loved him, she loved him, her _husband_ , and nothing, nobody, was taking his place in her heart, and if he thought that might be the case for even a second she’d set the record straight. Flynn added a second finger, his thumb pressing against her clit, and she nipped at his lip in retaliation as she pulled away. “Top of the list is you fucking him.”

Flynn shuddered and Lucy grinned. “I thought you’d like that idea.”

Without warning Flynn added a third finger and a small moan escaped her. She dug her nails into his shoulders and felt his smirk against her mouth. “You want to tie him up.”

“Maybe.” She wanted to put a collar on him, she wanted to fuck him with the strap on, she wanted to _wreck_ him. “You have to admit he looks all pretty when he’s blushing. You like him doing what you tell him to.”

Flynn withdrew his fingers and she spread her legs, taking his cock in hand and carefully sinking onto it. Flynn grunted, struggling to hold still until she had taken in all of him, her breath shaking out of her as she adjusted to the stretch. “We’d have to start slow with him. If he’s even interested.”

“Then we’ll find out if he’s interested.” Lucy wrapped her arms around Flynn’s shoulders, her mouth right at his ear as Flynn got his hands on the backs of her thighs and started to thrust. “You want to get your hand on his throat, don’t you, darling?”

Flynn scraped his teeth over her neck, and that was all the answer she needed. “I was thinking we’d—ah—we’d work him up to it—teach him things—oh _God_ —teach him how to eat me out, how to—how to blow you—train him to be good, I bet he’d be so good for us, not come until we say, keep him on edge forever—”

Flynn kissed her savagely as she pushed her hips up and down, matching his rhythm as he fucked up into her, their hands like claws, just as much teeth as tongue in the kiss. “You know,” he whispered, his voice rough like he’d been gargling gravel, “you know— _moja draga_ , Lucy, you know he could never, nobody could ever replace—I love you, hey? _Volim te_ , I love you, I will always love you, _obožavam te_ —”

Lucy kissed him hard, bruising. “I know, I know, darling, I know. I love you, always, _always_.”

Flynn’s hands were sliding absolutely all over her, his mouth a brand against her skin. “He hasn’t even told us if he’s bi.”

“We can find out,” she whispered, gasping as Flynn thrust into her again. “ _Ah_ , yes, yes, there, yes, oh God—we’ll find out and we’ll, we’ll test the waters, we’ll see, you—you should see the way he looks at you Garcia he looks at you the way I look at you like he’s going to starve if he doesn’t fucking touch you—ohhhh God and he wanted me once I know, I know, _fuck_ yes I know he’ll want me again—we’ll see if he’s open to it and we’ll—”

Flynn kissed her again as his hand moved between her legs again, rubbing her clit, and Lucy let out a long moan as she started to shake, her body losing all coordination and she straight-up writhed on his cock, clawing at him, coming hard, a livewire as she shuddered apart.

Lucy struggled to get her breath back, sitting up and taking Flynn’s face in her hands. “Come on, come for me,” she ordered. “I want to watch you.”

It had been a line, once upon a time, with clients as she’d used toys or her hand to get them off. She hadn’t actually cared, it hadn’t done anything for her, it had been about making sure they were taken care of and had gotten what they needed out of the session. But she really did want to see every little expression on Flynn’s face, wanted to watch as his eyes went dark and glazed and his jaw relaxed and his eyelids fluttered just that little bit as he emptied inside her.

Lucy sank down on his lap, riding out the last few pulses and jerks, feeling the slick sliding down her thighs. _Please work this time_ , she thought, fleetingly. Please, dear God, let it stick, let her finally get pregnant.

Flynn must have sensed her thoughts because he kissed her slowly, carefully, over and over until she started to relax. He knew that no matter what he said, she couldn’t help but fear that it was her fault, that something had gone wrong with her as she’d jumped from decade to decade, across time and space.

“We don’t know if he’ll be into the BDSM,” Flynn pointed out.

“The way he gets when one of us tells him what to do? He’ll be into it,” Lucy teased. She traced the lines on Flynn’s face. “But we’ll go slow.”

“…slow.”

“We’ll communicate,” Lucy amended. She was not so good at going slow when it came to sex, as her personal history showed.

Flynn gently brushed some of her sweat-damp hair out of her face. “You’re perfection,” he murmured, his eyes shining at her. Lucy had to swallow around the lump in her throat. “I don’t ever want you to think you’re not enough for me.”

“Honestly I don’t know how we ended up here,” she admitted with a small laugh. She wound her arms around Flynn’s neck. “You hated him, he hated you, I wanted next to nothing to do with him after the whole fiasco…”

“He’s gotten better. Two years—with therapy, with a kid—it can change you.” Flynn cupped her cheek. “All it took was one night for me to fall in love with you.”

Lucy had to kiss him after that, she just had to. “Carry me to the shower?” she asked.

Flynn rested their foreheads together, smiling, then got his hands under her thighs to hold her as he lifted her, rising up, standing. “Whatever you say, ma’am,” he told her, his voice soft but light, teasing.

God, she loved him. “Tomorrow, we plan,” she said. “Start feeling him out.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight we shower and watch TV before bed.”

“Mmm, I like that plan.”

She kissed him the whole way to the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

Wyatt hadn’t planned on falling in love with Flynn.

He hadn’t planned on staying in love with Lucy, either.

As time had passed and nothing he said or did fixed things with her—as everything he said and did only caused her to withdraw even more from him, caused her to look at him with that pale, drawn expression of pain—he’d come to terms with the truth that whatever he had once been to her… that was gone.

Lucy lit up around Flynn. It was like switching on the lights after being in a dark room all day. He made her coffee, he pulled the chair out for her, he took care of her.

Once, Wyatt had been the person who’d done that for her. But he’d had to admit… Flynn did a better job of it than Wyatt had.

But it had been hard to let go.

He could still remember when he’d first started to realize that the… the rather enthusiastic dislike he held for Flynn had a different origin than he’d thought.

It was the day he’d confronted Flynn in the bathroom over his meetings in the BDSM club with Lucy. How Flynn had rightfully shot him down, how he’d gotten a dangerous spark of heat in his gut when Flynn had planted his hand on the front of Wyatt’s shoulder and shoved him. How he’d ignored that heat for days, and days, as he’d turned Flynn’s words over and over again in his mind. How the words had gone from jagged glass to a smooth pebbled stone.

How he’d watched Flynn leave every week, stressed, tense, snapping at everyone, and coming back relaxed and calm and loose in his limbs.

He’d started to see all the ways that Flynn took care of everyone. How much Jiya and Rufus cared about him and depended on him. He was the jack of all trades on missions and Wyatt could count on Flynn to have his back, to be an extra gun, to make sure everyone got back okay.

And all the things he had forced himself to twist into anger had come rushing forward. The heat in his stomach, the way his pants got a little tight, the way his heart raced when Flynn touched him or even looked at him a certain way, that intense way that Flynn seemed to have with everything, like there was no ‘moderate’ setting with Flynn, just zero or full throttle.

And then he’d started thinking about all the things Lucy and Flynn were doing together. The way they were touching each other. Wyatt hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, an expert on BDSM. In fact he’d done just a little bit of research, just enough to apologize to Flynn, and then he’d stayed away because of… well because he didn’t want to learn about it from porn or a website. And his fantasies about Lucy and Flynn had been out of control enough already, thanks.

But he’d thought about it. About Lucy tying Flynn up, wondering if Flynn begged her, what Lucy was wearing, if he’d fucked her or if she’d fucked him. The first time he’d really let himself think about it, alone in his room, he’d thought about what if Lucy tied him up, and he’d remembered her hands on his wrists from the one time they’d fucked, but then he’d thought about Flynn’s larger, rougher hands, and then about Flynn’s cock and he’d gotten so blindingly hard he’d just about gone blind.

Touching himself had felt like a betrayal—to Jess who he was still trying to talk to, and to his dad, even though he hated the bastard. He’d stroked himself furtively, biting his lip until it bled, panicked that somehow even just the slick wet sounds of his hand would give him away and that somehow everyone would know what he was thinking about, that he was imagining getting fucked by Garcia Flynn, that he was imagining Lucy tying him down and smacking his ass, and he’d felt so goddamn ashamed and liberated all at the same time.

Each time after that it had gotten easier to imagine. The images became more clear, bolder, but the shame never went away. It just morphed. There was a part of him that still whispered that this was sick and wrong, to want a man, and to want two people at once, and to want a woman in charge of him, to want a woman using him like that. How degrading, how filthy, how depraved.

But even louder was the part that had spoken up once Lucy had come home and he’d seen how she looked at Flynn, and how Flynn had looked back at her. Dear God they were so in love. It still started up a rain shower in Wyatt’s heart to look at them looking at each other.

The best thing he’d ever done, if someone had asked him, was convince Lucy to tell Flynn that she loved him. They were so goddamn happy together. It made him feel like someone had opened up a cavern instead of him, the fucking Grand Canyon, made him desolate and aching and empty. But he’d learned, slowly—he was a slow learner, but learn he did—that loving someone was about doing what it took to make them happy. Sometimes that meant listening to them, sometimes it meant making them dinner or rubbing their feet, sometimes it meant taking them out dancing, sometimes it meant cleaning the kitchen, sometimes it meant remembering their favorite movies.

And sometimes it meant letting them go.

So the shame had twisted. And now it whispered to him, _how dare you. How dare you love two people who don’t need you._

It felt like he was invading their relationship, their privacy, their love, just by wanting them. There were times when he almost signed up for another tour or asked Denise for an assignment somewhere. She’d offered, a few times. If it wasn’t for Joy, he would have.

But he wouldn’t be his mom. He wouldn’t run out on his child.

Fuck, it would be all so much easier if he would just go away. Stop invading their lives. But he couldn’t, and they were so kind, such good friends to him, and so he kept coming over when they asked and he kept pining and he kept guiltily touching himself thinking about them.

Sometimes, he thought he’d throw up from it all.

If he still believed in God, he would ask Him to take this feeling away.

But Wyatt had stopped believing ages ago, when his grandfather died no matter how much Wyatt prayed and no lightning strike hit his father no matter how many times his father hit him.

And so here he was. He liked to think if nothing else he’d become a better man through loving them. He’d discussed once, with Jess, their relationship. It was one of the times he’d been sunk in it and had begged her to give him a chance.

“Why?” Jess had asked. “Why do you want me to give you a chance, Wyatt? You clearly aren’t in love with me anymore.”

And he’d just blurted out, “but you’re my family.”

And Jess had gotten this gentle look on her face and had taken his hand and said, “Wyatt. Just because I’m not your wife doesn’t mean I have to stop being your family.”

It was like everything had clicked. Oh. Jess was still family. Even if she wasn’t with him romantically.

“You’re getting better, though,” Jess had added. “You really have. Just because you still have a ways to go doesn’t mean you haven’t grown. I think it’s the others. Especially Lucy and Flynn. They’ve had a good effect on you.”

He tried to hold onto that. He really did.

Especially when he got texts like this one from Lucy, in the morning: _Flynn and I got into an argument about James Bond and there’s only one way to solve it. Marathon. You in?_

Wyatt glanced over at where Jess was reading to Joy on the couch. As if she could see the text or would even care.

_Sure. Want me to bring anything from the store?_

He hadn’t planned on falling in love with Flynn, or staying in love with Lucy.

But here he was.

The definition of a fool.

 

* * *

 

Lucy dropped the phone onto the couch as Flynn planted kisses along her neck from behind. “What did he say?”

“He said yes,” she replied, her voice a little breathy. She tilted her head to give Flynn more access. “Mmm, but he won’t be over for another few hours.”

Flynn’s hands kneaded her shoulders. His large, dexterous hands… with long fingers…

“Garcia?”

“Yes?” Flynn mumbled around a mouthful of her throat. His hands slid down her chest, underneath her shirt, cupping her breasts. Lucy whimpered a little, her legs spreading of their own accord.

“I want it,” she whispered. “We have time… we’ve been working up to it…”

Flynn was, to use some terminology, a ‘switch’. He needed to be submissive now and again, wound himself up and up in his head until someone gave him a steady, guiding hand, took him out of his own head, purged his thoughts and wiped the slate clean. But he also wanted to dominate Wyatt, as Lucy had finally gotten him to admit to her. It depended on the person.

And she knew that for Flynn, she was the domme. She was the one in charge, the one who told him what to do. For Flynn, obeying her in the bedroom was second nature.

…but he was also terrified of ever hurting her.

Flynn would’ve rather walked on water than have her so much as get a paper cut, and it was a power she tried to wield carefully—knowing that a man who’d taken down dozens, who’d ripped a bloody swath through history, would kneel for her, would do literally anything she asked—and would also give his life for her.

But he wasn’t going to hurt her, not like this. Lucy trusted Flynn and she trusted herself. It was hard, being dominant. She hadn’t gotten to do certain things since her college girlfriend Sara, since she’d been submissive with her. Sara would do things to her that nobody else would, because things like fisting, forcing orgasms, overstimulating her, those all read as dominant to people.

Sara had given her all of those things, had made Lucy beg and plead for them, had turned her into a gibbering wreck. And she wanted that, she wanted to be shaking with it, to be so goddamn turned on that she couldn’t move afterwards.

But she had to order Flynn to do it.

…talk about a delicate balance.

“Garcia.” She tilted her head up to look at him. Flynn was still idly touching her breasts, like he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop running his hands over her, but he wasn’t actively trying to move the proceedings along anymore. “Would it be easier if I ordered you to do it?”

Flynn sighed, leaning down to kiss her between the eyes, then on the tip of her nose. “I know that it’s… the same as when you tell me to go down on you. But you like to push your limits, _draga_ , you know that.”

“You like to push them too.”

She hadn’t experienced that much. Only once or twice had she used the safe word, yanking them out of a scene when she felt Flynn was too deep in his self-loathing to pull himself out. According to Flynn, Josip—his best friend growing up and later his lover—and Lorena had broken him of the worst of that habit.

But the point still stood. She wasn’t the only one guilty of pushing herself too far.

“I won’t,” she promised. “I want to feel—I want to feel full, stretched, I like—I like you being so inside me, I like us… connected like that, owning each other like that—I don’t want it to be painful. I’ll stop you if it’s painful.”

Flynn wet his lips, staring at her for a long moment.

“All right,” he said at last. Lucy sagged in relief. She hadn’t realized how terrified she’d been of him saying no until now that he’d agreed. Yay, inferiority complex. “But you have to let me take care of you afterward. I carry you to the couch, I fetch you food, you don’t try and do it yourself.”

“Who says no to being pampered?”

“You,” Flynn said dryly.

Lucy grinned at him. “Touché.”

She took his wrists in her hand and guided them down her body. “Now take me to bed,” she ordered in a whisper. “And fuck me so hard I can’t walk.”

Flynn swallowed and she saw his eyes go black. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy insisted on being tied down for this.

Flynn wasn’t so sure about that, himself. He wanted her free, in case something went wrong.

“That’s exactly why I have to be tied down, darling,” Lucy replied, passing him the ties they used regularly. “I don’t want to thrash or something instinctively and then you’ve hurt me by accident and it’s all a mess.”

“I’d rather you could easily get away if you needed to.”

“This is why Wyatt would be handy. If he was here, he could hold me down.”

Flynn’s cock twitched in interest, head spreading through his chest. The idea of Wyatt holding her… yes. It meant someone else was watching Lucy, taking care of her, and that someone could release her at any moment if needed, that someone was making sure she was really okay…

And the idea of Wyatt being told what to do— _pin her down, and if you’re good and help her come, I’ll fuck you after_ —fuck, yes.

He’d never been this dominant before with anyone. There were times when Lorena wanted him to be in charge and he’d been happy to do that for her. He loved her, of course he was happy to do it.

Just one look at Wyatt, though… mmm, and Flynn wanted to shove him to his knees and tell him to open wide.

It terrified him, honestly. First of all because he never wanted Lucy to think for even a second that he’d stopped loving her or being attracted to her. He would never stop loving her, never stop wanting her. Realizing he wanted Wyatt as well… it had kept him up for nights on end, staring at the ceiling as Lucy slumbered on his chest, holding her tightly as if she’d somehow read his thoughts and get up and leave.

Now that Lucy had told him she felt the same, that she had noticed and it was okay, they had enough love to extend that attraction to someone else, that fear had subsided slightly.

Didn’t change the second fear, the confusion as to why he was so goddamn dominant over Wyatt, why he wanted Wyatt to submit to him. Intellectually he understood the dynamic. Lucy wasn’t taking advantage of him by dominating him. He trusted her, and she was taking care of him, helping him mentally and emotionally. Yet… he still feared that he would somehow hurt Wyatt, or that it said something wrong about him that he wanted to dominate Wyatt like that.

He supposed that only time and discussion would help with that. And doing things like this with Lucy helped as well. She was ordering him to do this to her, the same as when she was ordering him to eat her out, and he was only giving her what she wanted and he loved that, he loved doing what Lucy told him to, what made her feel good. But he was still the one actually doing it and he was still responsible if things went wrong and so it felt like a good balance. A good chance to see how he handled it.

“I’d like that,” he said honestly, responding to Lucy’s suggestion. There would undoubtedly be awkward moments and moments of confusion and complication because, well, twelve limbs, but having three people also opened up so many other possibilities and combinations, ones that made Flynn’s blood spike.

Lucy reached up, cupping his cheek. Flynn turned his face, kissing the base of her palm. “You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Flynn nodded, then bent down and kissed her. It was time to take the plunge, to do this, and dammit he was going to do it right.

 

* * *

 

Lucy hummed as Flynn slid his hands up and down her body, undressing her slowly. Flynn liked to take his time with her and she was never going to complain about that, her hands tangling in his soft dark hair as he kissed his way down her throat, to her breasts, then eventually lower.

Lucy arched up into his mouth, sighing, shivering, as Flynn spread her legs and bit along the inside of her thighs, leaving gloriously red marks on her pale skin. “Garcia…”

After being together for so long, Flynn knew her every tone of voice, her every movement just as she knew his, and he understood the order in the word. He pushed back up, taking the ties and helping Lucy to secure her wrists to the slats in the headboard.

“All good?”

Lucy nodded and Flynn kissed her, nice and slow and sucking, impossibly gentle, his thumbs rubbing over where the silk and her skin met. Lucy looped her ankle over his leg, hitching her hips up, a silent invitation.

Flynn kissed her wrists, then made his way back down, re-tracing the path his mouth had made before, until he was nosing along her hipbone, through her folds, humming like he had all the time in the world. Finally, with a smug smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth, he lapped at her clit. Lucy moaned, tugging at her restraints.

Mmm, she couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have actual hands pinning her down. To have someone kissing her mouth while Flynn ran his tongue through her folds. God, it would feel so good, double the sensations…

Flynn’s tongue curled into her and Lucy jolted, heat shooting through her like an arrow. She melted against him as Flynn kept at it, moving up to her clit and back down again, winding the coil of heat tighter and tighter inside of her, until she was practically grinding against his tongue and tugging uselessly at the restraints.

His hand slid under her thigh, hitching it over his shoulder as he dove into her again and again, spreading her wide, until she had no choice but to unwind completely under the relentless strokes of his tongue, until she was moaning his name and her breath became trapped in her throat.

Flynn didn’t stop, two of his fingers sliding inside, curling, pumping in and out of her and Lucy thrust up in pleasant shock, her skin buzzing. They’d talked about this, about how she should have a couple of orgasms under her belt to keep her relaxed and open for the main event but it was one thing to talk about it and another thing to feel Flynn continuing to touch her, coaxing more shakes and moans out of her, his thumb pressing into her clit and his two—no, three, three now—fingers searching for that extra spot to make her cry out.

Lucy twisted her hips and dug her heel into his back, not so much trying to move him or order him as she was reacting to his touch. It felt so good, so good, one orgasm bleeding into the next, a ride that wasn’t ever going to end. A roller coaster with a drop that just kept on going.

She hardly noticed at first when Flynn spread her legs a bit wider, his hands moving down her legs, but she definitely noticed when he secured her ankles to the bed post. A new wave of heat hit her and she could literally feel herself getting wetter, her body still shaking in the aftershocks of orgasm, knowing what was coming next.

Flynn kissed along her stomach, then slid two fingers into her again as he started to suck on the thin, delicate skin by her hips, turning it from pale to gorgeously purple and blue, mouth shaped marks of his devotion. He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked right as he added a third finger and Lucy let out a broken cry, starting to feel overstimulated, unsure if this was another orgasm or if she’d just never really stopped having the second one.

And then a fourth finger.

“Oh God,” she blurted out. She was starting to feel the stretch, now, starting to feel—oh fuck, oh _fuck_.

Flynn’s fingers shifted inside of her as he tucked his thumb and pinkie underneath the others and aligned them all together, making a sort of pointed fist, and then all of it was slowly, inexorably, entering her and Lucy let out a kind of half-moan half-wailing sound she hadn’t even known she could make.

Flynn kept kissing her stomach, her hips, her legs, petting her with his free hand, making soothing humming noises. His forearm braced over her stomach to keep her from moving involuntarily as she felt the ridge of his knuckles rubbing right up against her entrance.

There was a moment of pure fucking terror, of thinking that she’d been an idiot to ask for this, that it was never going to fit and she was going to get hurt and Flynn wouldn’t want to so much as touch her again for fear of hurting her and she was going to bleed and it would all be horribly embarrassing, she could feel tears springing into her eyes and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck it was so, it was too, it was—

And then it was like something inside of her gave way, the dam cracked, and his hand slid in the rest of the way.

Lucy shivered uncontrollably. She had never felt so goddamn full in her life, so fucking stretched, every single twitch of her body sent another jolt of electricity through her. Flynn’s knuckles were pressing right up against her clit from the inside and she thought she just might scream if only she could get any sound out. Her eyes were open, she knew that, but she couldn’t focus them she couldn’t see anything, it was all a blur, an uncontrollable blur and it felt so good but she also might die from just how much it was.

“Breathe,” Flynn told her. “ _Moja draga_ , Lucy, darling, breathe for me.”

She inhaled sharply, shivering, still shivering, and then Flynn moved his hand a little and she honest-to-God screamed.

Flynn froze. “Do you—are—”

“Don’t you dare pull out,” Lucy hissed. Oh holy mother of God that felt so fucking good. “I want—it feels—please, please, please just—I want—”

Flynn thrust gently, his knuckles sliding in and out of her, rubbing against her sensitive entrance, and Lucy sobbed, tears finally sliding free. Oh _God_ it felt—she couldn’t even describe it anymore, it was like a galaxy had opened inside her, like she’d been stripped down and her wiring exposed and even just the knowledge that his _hand_ was inside of her, holy fuck holy fuck Flynn’s goddamn hand was inside of her, even just that was turning her on so damn badly she couldn’t breathe.

Flynn kept up his movements, small but deliberate, his fingers searching a bit until he found a spot that made her—

She screamed again, feeling raw and loving it, shaking apart and not caring, fuck, fuck, it felt so good she wasn’t going to walk for a week and she didn’t care she couldn’t even tell if she was orgasming or not anymore it was so—it was so— _yes_ —

Her ankles and wrists felt a bit raw from tugging at them so much, so perhaps it had been a good thing after all that she hadn’t been free to move as she wished. Flynn kept his hand inside of her until she came back from that high, the rollercoaster finally over, and then he carefully, slowly, slid his hand out as he massaged her with his free hand. She whimpered as his hand finally left her, feeling empty and small.

Flynn kissed her softly, still massaging her, over her stomach and thighs, then untying her ankles and wrists and taking care of them. “Lucy,” he whispered, like it was a prayer. “Lucy, Lucy, _Lucy_.”

“’iz my name,” she mumbled. “Don’ overuse it.”

Flynn chuckled. “We’re getting you into the shower, and then to the couch, and I’ll make you some tea while you nap, all right?”

Lucy moaned a little as he scooped her up, her head heavily falling to his shoulder. She couldn’t feel her legs. “That was really, really, _really_ good,” she mumbled. “Wan’ a do ‘gain.”

“Okay, maybe in like a month. When you can talk coherently again.”

“’mm fine,” she murmured.

Then she passed out.

 

* * *

 

When Wyatt got to the house, he knocked, only to hear Flynn yell, “It’s open!”

He entered, carrying the groceries Flynn had asked him to pick up. Flynn was in the kitchen, making popcorn and brownies, and Lucy was stretched out on the couch with a mug of tea. She looked…

Um.

Her hair was damp and tousled like she’d just taken a shower, her eyes bright and shining, and her wrists looked a little pink. There was a mark low on her neck, and she had this satisfied look on her face like a cat who’d eaten a dozen canaries.

“Wyatt!” Lucy beamed at him. “Come sit down.”

Wyatt handed the groceries (wine, beer, potato chips, and dip) over to Flynn and then sat down. Lucy put her feet in his lap, wiggling her toes.

“You know,” Wyatt commented, taking Lucy’s feet so he could massage them, “if I didn’t know better I’d say you’re spoiled.”

Lucy scoffed. Over in the kitchen Flynn had a coughing fit. Wyatt grinned, digging his knuckle into the arch of Lucy’s foot.

Lucy hummed contentedly, sipping her tea. “You look stressed, Wyatt.”

“Joy has moments of terrible twos,” he acknowledged. “You look the opposite of stressed.”

Lucy hummed. “We had fun earlier.”

Wyatt’s stomach did an odd swoop.

“Garcia?” Lucy craned her neck back. “I hate to say this but I’m out of tea…”

“Can’t you go get it?” Wyatt asked.

“She’s not allowed to leave the couch,” Flynn intoned, taking Lucy’s empty mug.

“Apparently,” Lucy grumbled, “if I get something I want then I have to suffer the consequences.”

“Because your husband bringing you tea refills and making you a bunch of food is a horrible consequence to suffer,” Wyatt pointed out.

“Traitor,” Lucy said lightly.

“What the hell did you guys even do that you’re not allowed to move around?” He didn’t know why he asked it in a whisper, but he did, before he focused back in on Lucy’s feet to avoid her seeing his blush.

“Do you really want to know?” Lucy asked softly.

Wyatt forced himself not to glance up at her, or at Flynn who was still banging around in the kitchen.

He really shouldn’t ask. He really, really shouldn’t. But Lucy was offering—why, he didn’t know, maybe she’d temporarily taken leave of her senses—and he wanted… he wanted…

He couldn’t trust his voice, so he nodded.

Lucy leaned back against the pillows. “Well…”

She paused as Flynn walked over and passed Wyatt a beer. Wyatt was careful not to let their fingers touch as he took the bottle, raising it in thanks before taking a sip.

Flynn walked away and Lucy said quietly, “Flynn fisted me.”

Wyatt choked on the beer, coughing, his eyes watering.

Holy fuck.

The image was in his head before he could stop it, Lucy spread out on the bed, Flynn’s fist—oh God inside her as she… what? He couldn’t imagine Lucy begging, per se, but asking him for more, tiny desperate noises coming out of her, Flynn’s face as he watched his hand disappearing into her…

“Why?” he asked, his voice strangled. That had to hurt. “Wouldn’t that… y’know…”

Lucy smiled gently at him. “I like the feeling of being too full. Stretched. Like I can’t even move and it’s all so overwhelming.”

It was a softer version of what Wyatt thought of as Lucy’s ‘professor voice’, the one that she used when teaching someone about history.

If she liked feeling too full, stretched, could she… oh fuck the idea of him… him and Flynn, both of them, inside of her at the same time, in the same… he’d feel Flynn’s cock against his, but he’d be, they’d be, inside Lucy at the same time and feel how hot and tight she was and she’d, maybe she’d want that, she’d like it…

Wyatt swallowed hard, feeling his cock stiffening, hot and heavy in his pants, glad that Lucy’s feet on his thigh hid it from her view. _Think of dead puppies think of dead puppies, your dad, Joy…_

Okay, that did it. Wyatt breathed carefully as he wrestled himself under control.

“I’m not sure I understand that,” he replied, his voice low and rough. “It sounds scary.”

“It can be,” Lucy admitted. “That’s where the trust really comes in. Trust in the other person to take care of you and to not let it go too far and trust in yourself, in your own body. We prepped a lot beforehand, and it’s like any kind of physical training. You have to just take the plunge and know it’ll be all right. And in the end, it was more than worth it.”

“Even though you’re now confined to the couch?” Wyatt teased.

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him, and then Flynn was bringing plates of junk food over and it was time to start the marathon.

He tried desperately to push their conversation out of his head, but he couldn’t stop thinking… couldn’t stop imagining…

God help him, he couldn’t stop.

 

* * *

 

Flynn grinned down at Lucy, slumped against him on the couch, blissfully asleep. He secured his arm around her and kissed the top of her head, his heart softening as Lucy unconsciously snuggled closer.

On screen, Bond was seducing someone. As per usual.

“Y’know as a kid I had no idea how misogynistic this stuff was,” Wyatt commented from Flynn’s other side. The temptation to put his arm around Wyatt as well was terrible.

He snorted. “Yeah, Lucy’s always quick to point that out but it doesn’t stop her from asking if I would be Bond for Halloween.”

Wyatt glanced at Flynn, a wry grin on his face. “You’d be a good Bond.”

Heat dripped down Flynn’s chest to his stomach. “Oh?”

Wyatt shrugged, looking back at the screen. “Tendency to make things explode, try to put out one fire and accidentally start several more, can’t be bothered with subtlety…”

“And here I was waiting for you to say it’s because I’m tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Well you are tall…”

Flynn flipped him off. Wyatt grinned at the television screen, evidently catching Flynn’s gesture out of the corner of his eye. “Cracks me up, because Fleming was the same height as me, blonde, looks nothing like Bond.”

“Well, maybe it was a fantasy of who he wanted to be. I also heard Bond was based on Christopher Lee, and he was tall dark and handsome. He and Fleming were related and in the secret service together.”

“No way.” Wyatt laughed a little, leaning back into the couch. “Wish I’d grilled Fleming more about that but I was just so damn tongue tied.”

“Was he all you thought he’d be?”

“I mean, he flirted with Lucy and she clearly didn’t like it so that pissed me off a little.”

“Sure you weren’t just jealous?”

Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. Lucy and Wyatt had put their almost-relationship behind them and become good friends but that didn’t mean they wanted it brought up.

But Wyatt said, light and breezy as if he wasn’t thinking about it, “Okay, maybe I was a little jealous of her. But you should’ve seen the guy.”

Flynn paused.

Had Wyatt just admitted—

“Wyatt were you… did you have a…”

Wyatt’s eyes were wide, his face pale. “I should really, wow, look at the time, and Lucy’s asleep I should…” He stood up, utter panic on his face. Flynn had rarely seen Wyatt so completely afraid before.

He reached for him. “Hey, whoa, Wyatt—”

Wyatt skittered away from the touch, practically yanking his car keys out of his pocket. “No, I—Jess’ll want me back to help with Joy, I’ll just, I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Flynn tried to stand up, but he had to do it while also shifting Lucy back onto the couch and in the time that took, Wyatt had grabbed his jacket and shoes and was slipping out the front door. “Wyatt!” Flynn hissed. “Goddammit, Wyatt!”

He was gone.

Flynn sat down heavily onto the couch, bracing his elbow on his knee, burying his hand in his hair.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Wyatt opened the door to the apartment a little more forcefully than necessary, wincing and hoping the sound wouldn’t wake up Joy. “Hey, Je—”

He froze.

Jess was sitting on the couch, but she wasn’t alone. Straddling her lap—and kissing her thoroughly, complete with little mewling noises, until Wyatt burst in and they stopped—was Amy Preston.

The two women stared at Wyatt. Wyatt stared back at them.

“What,” Wyatt croaked, “the actual fuck.”

“Joy is asleep,” Jess said quickly. “We have the baby monitor on.”

“Because that’s what I’m freaking out over,” Wyatt snapped. “What the hell is this?”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to have a girlfriend?” Jess snapped right back.

“Girlfriend? How long has this been going on?”

The guilt on their faces said it all.

“I should go…” Amy mumbled quietly.

Wyatt scrubbed a hand over his face. “Does Lucy know?”

Amy looked stricken. “We—it’s been so new, y’know…”

“Jesus Christ, I hope she has mercy on your souls.”

Wyatt closed his eyes as Amy scrambled for her bra, which had somehow come off even though her tank top was still on. “Sorry Wyatt,” she said as she grabbed her purse.

“It’s fine, Amy, honestly. I’m not mad at you.”

She laid a hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes. Amy smiled tentatively at him.

Wyatt smiled back. Amy Preston was the kind of person that made it so you couldn’t ever really stay mad at her—much like her sister. “Have a good night, Amy. I’d really tell Lucy about this, though. You know she’ll be happy for you.”

“Yeah.” Amy winced. “I know. Have a good night, Wyatt.”

She slipped out the door.

Jess stood up. “You weren’t supposed to be home this early, it’s only nine.”

“Lucy’d had a long day, she fell asleep.”

Jess raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Hasn’t stopped you and Flynn from continuing a movie marathon before.”

“Yeah, well, it did this time.”

Jess frowned. “Did something go wrong?”

“I don’t know, Jess, how long have you been fucking Amy?”

Jess started picking up the beer bottles and food from the coffee table. “If you’re going to judge…”

“I don’t give a fuck who you’re with, Jess, I care that you didn’t tell me!” Fuck, he didn’t need this right now, not after today. Not after… that. “How long, seriously, has this been going on?”

Jess put her hands on her hips. Then she sighed, a blush rising to her cheeks. “She’s been helping me a lot out at the bar. Keeping things organized for me, suggesting things, all that, y’know. And she’s really sweet and passionate and funny and… one thing led to another and we’d flirt and she kissed me and so…”

“And you didn’t want to even mention that you had feelings for someone? That you wanted to date someone? Christ, Jess, I’m supportive, I’m just… I’m just hurt that you wouldn’t tell me. That you kept it a secret from me. You were going to smuggle her out of the house before I got back, weren’t you?”

“Maybe I wanted something just for myself, okay?” Jess snapped. “My whole life since high school has had you in it and you’re my friend and I care about you but just once, maybe, I wanted something that was just for me? Did you think about that?”

Wyatt made for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jess demanded.

“For a drive!”

He made sure to stay out until she was definitely asleep, just driving up and down the neighborhood streets, the only one awake at this hour, the radio playing softly in the background.

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

Lucy frowned down at her phone. “Wyatt isn’t answering my texts.”

Flynn paused momentarily where he was looking over the blueprints of an office a client wanted him to outfit with security tech. “Maybe he’s busy.”

“He once spent an hour debating X-Files with me while he was in the middle of surveillance, there’s no such thing as busy,” Lucy replied.

Flynn had been rather quiet the morning after the Bond marathon. She’d fallen asleep, unfortunately. The plan—in Lucy’s mind, anyway—had been to initiate some cuddling during the marathon, and use Bond as a way to coax Wyatt into possibly talking about his sexuality. She’d seen how he looked at Fleming, at Wendall Scott, the way he shifted like a rabbit caught in a trap at the gay bar in the ‘50s, the way he has looked at Flynn since the beginning.

But noticing it in someone else and getting that someone else to admit it were two very different things.

Anyway her hope had been that by the end of the night she and Flynn could have coaxed Wyatt into sleeping over. No sex, not yet. Just sleeping together in the same bed. Had to get him used to touch, used to the idea of two people, one of whom was a man.

Except she fell asleep, more exhausted from the sex than she’d thought, and when she woke up the next morning Flynn was walking around like a dog who’d chewed her favorite shoes and was just waiting for her to figure it out.

It had been three days. And Wyatt wasn’t answering her texts.

“Garcia.”

Flynn looked up. God he looked cute with glasses. Lucy sauntered over, kissing him. When Flynn had first worn his glasses in front of her, he’d been a little embarrassed.

Lucy had jumped him and fucked his brains out on the kitchen table.

Now she just satisfied herself with a kiss. “What exactly went on during movie night while I was asleep?”

Flynn’s guilt was written all over his face.

Lucy sighed. “Honey.”

“He made a comment about Fleming,” Flynn said. “One that implied… it was my fault. He mentioned Fleming had flirted with you. Or tried to, rather. I made a… a stupid comment about him being jealous. I was thinking—over you. But he replied… it sounded like he’d wanted Fleming to flirt with him instead.”

Flynn let out a slow breath. “After that he panicked and ran out. You were sleeping on me so I had to move you and by the time I got to my feet he was gone.”

Lucy sighed, tipping her forehead down to press it against Flynn’s. “I don’t know if he’s actually told anyone,” she admitted. “But at least now we know for certain that he is… does… like men as well. Do you think I should go talk to him?”

“Better you than me,” Flynn replied.

Lucy nodded. “I’ll go, then.”

She texted Jess and got confirmation that she was out of the apartment. _Is Wyatt there?_ Lucy asked.

_I assume so. We had a bit of a fight the other day. Haven’t really talked since._

A fight? Over… over Wyatt’s sexuality? Over Lucy and Flynn?

Lucy didn’t know what to think. She just knew… Wyatt had become their friend. Flynn needed him. She needed him. She didn’t want anyone’s stupid choices or thoughtless comments to have ruined that.

_Thanks. I hope you two patch it up._

The reply took a minute. _We will. I kind of broke his trust. Just gotta take some time to cool down y’know._

That didn’t sound like something to do with the Wyatt-Flynn-Lucy situation. Lucy breathed a little easier.

When she got to the apartment she could see Wyatt’s car in the lot with the others. All right then. Hopefully he hadn’t taken Joy on a walk to the park. Lucy didn’t fancy sitting in her care for an hour waiting like some kind of stalker.

She knocked on the front door, trying not to hold her breath.

“Did you forget you key—” Wyatt cut himself off as he opened the door and saw her standing there.

Poor guy looked like he hadn’t slept in days, dark circles under his eyes and his hair a wreck. “You’re not Jess,” he said.

“No, I’m not.” Lucy peered around him to see Joy playing with building blocks. “Hi, baby girl!”

“Aunt Lucy!” Joy stumbled to her feet and ran over, still a little wobbly on her legs. She wormed her way past her father and wrapped her arms around Lucy’s knees. “Up?”

“You’re getting spoiled, being carried everywhere,” Lucy said, but she picked her up anyway.

“I guess you should come in,” Wyatt said, holding the door open for her. “What brings you here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts,” Lucy replied. “We got worried.”

“I was busy.”

Lucy sighed, turning around to face him. “You think I don’t know when you’re lying to me, Wyatt? How many years have we known each other now? Five? You’re bad at lying, you always have been.”

What she’d wanted to say was _you’re shit at bullshitting_ but Joy’s ear was literally right by Lucy’s mouth so.

“What is it, really?” she asked, gentling her voice. “What happened?”

Wyatt glanced over at Joy. “Hey, ladybug, how about you play with your blocks here, see if you can make a tower? Aunt Lucy and I are gonna have a quick talk in my bedroom, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Lucy set Joy down. The toddler went over to play with her blocks again, and Lucy let Wyatt lead her into the bedroom.

She’d never actually been in Wyatt’s bedroom before. It was surprisingly sparse. The bed looked comfortable enough, with the sheets tucked with military precision, but there wasn’t anything on the walls, only a few books on a small bookshelf.

“You look like you just moved in,” she noted.

Wyatt shrugged. “Jess and I never planned for this to be permanent. I mean, I always knew she’d find someone else at some point so I guess I just let it stay in limbo.”

“You deserve better than that,” Lucy pointed out.

Wyatt gestured for her to sit if she wanted. Lucy perched herself on the edge of the bed. “But that’s not why I’m here. Wyatt, honestly, did we upset you? Did we do something to hurt you?”

He shook his head. “No, I…” His voice sounded a little raw. “Luce, can I tell you something? And you can’t tell anyone?”

“You know Garcia and I don’t have secrets from each other.”

“I know, but, just, I don’t know how to tell everyone, anyone.” Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just been in here, in my chest for so long it’s like—I don’t know how to get rid of it. It’s like some—some kind of bullet that y’know got stuck and the scar tissue grew around it?” Wyatt huffed. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“No, it makes sense.” She patted the bed next to her. “Come here.”

Wyatt moved as if it was instinctive for him to listen to her, and Lucy’s heart ached. He sat next to her and let her take his hand. He squeezed so tightly, Lucy thought her bones might rearrange.

“I’m…” Wyatt swallowed and she noticed his eyes were now wet. “Flynn said something and I said something back and I wasn’t thinking and I got scared and I left because… because I… because I didn’t know how to say it out loud and I’m still, it’s stupid but I’m still scared people are going to judge me for it and I like guys.”

The last few words came out in an absolute rush.

Lucy squeezed his hand back. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

Wyatt inhaled sharply.

“Good.”

“I do like—I’m bi, I think is the term? Bisexual?” Wyatt’s cheeks grew pink. “I did some googling.”

“That’s a term a lot of people like to use, yes.”

“I never lied to you. I did… I loved Jess, y’know, it’s not like I’ve been faking that all this time.”

“I know.”

Wyatt looked absolutely lost and helpless, like he had at the Alamo, like he had after he’d come back from stealing the Lifeboat. “How am I supposed to tell people?”

“You don’t have to tell anyone, if you don’t want to.”

Wyatt looked down at their joined hands. “I just… I know it’s okay. For other people. But I still… don’t know how to say it’s okay for myself.”

“These things take time,” Lucy admitted. “You know how much we all support Denise?”

Wyatt nodded.

“Well… I’m bi.”

He looked up at her, startled, blinking rapidly and causing a few tears to slip free. “You’re what?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah. I had a girlfriend in college for a long time. She’s the one who got me into BDSM, helped me to get a job at the local club.”

Wyatt gaped at her. “I’m gonna be honest, a lot of your talks with historical women look a whole lot different now.”

“Ah, yes, well.” Lucy could feel herself blushing and she shrugged. “I wouldn’t have said no if any of them had asked me, I guess you could say.”

“Let’s be honest here.” A grin twitched the corner of Wyatt’s mouth upward. “You would’ve totally ditched me for Hedy if she’d wanted.”

Lucy laughed. “All right, yes, maybe. But hey I could have slept with you at any time! How many times would I have gotten to sleep with Hedy Lamarr!”

“Do I look like I’m blaming you?” Wyatt managed to chuckle a bit.

“I didn’t tell anyone because it was a source of shame for me,” Lucy admitted, sobering up. “I broke up with Sara—that was her name—because I couldn’t handle the fight that would happen if my mom found out about her. I got so used to keeping the truth about that inside and away from anyone who might tell my mom, and that meant all of my work colleagues and most of my friends. And so by the time I was with you all it was just habit. It’s a habit I’m still trying to break. But when people see I’m married to a man they just… wonder why I’d bring it up at all. Or they say it doesn’t matter because I chose a man, that I chose the ‘straight’ option.

“I don’t mean to scare you from being yourself, I’m just explaining why I didn’t say anything. Why I still struggle to say it. And so I—I understand, Wyatt, I do. But I do think if you told Flynn, he wouldn’t judge you. He’d be accepting. He’s just scared that he hurt your feelings. You’re one of his closest friends.”

Wyatt looked down, nodding. “Thanks for, uh, telling me. And I’m not angry with Flynn or anything. I just—it blindsided me that I’d said that, y’know? I didn’t—I was scared. I was a coward.”

“We’re all scared. It’s okay.”

Wyatt’s face grew tight. “You should’ve tried to sleep with Hedy,” he muttered. “’Stead of me.”

Lucy pressed her palm to Wyatt’s cheek, forcing him to look back up at her. “Wyatt Logan. None of that. Did we rush into things a little quickly? Maybe. But you were there for me when I needed someone. If you hadn’t been good to me before, I never would’ve tried to be friends with you again after the shit you pulled.” Her thumb brushed over his cheek, and oh, this was dangerous. This was very dangerous. Not because of Flynn—they had their agreement and their understanding and if she did cross a line alone it would only be to drag Wyatt over so she and Flynn could share—but because Wyatt hadn’t yet had it explained to him. Wyatt wouldn’t understand. “You need to stop beating yourself up when you’ve done enough to atone for it. You apologized, you did the work, you improved. Now you need to let go. You can’t keep dragging that dead horse around.”

Wyatt didn’t look like he quite believed her. He still looked so alone and lost. It was terribly tempting to kiss him like this, to smooth out the worried lines in his jaw and the corners of his eyes, to make him wonderfully limp and pliant and take all the stress away.

But that wouldn’t be right. Sex was only a temporary bandage, any professional dom who’d had to deal with a client who refused to get proper therapy could tell you that. BDSM and sex in general didn’t replace talking and communication.

Lucy pulled back a little, patting his cheek and squeezing his hand. “I understand if you don’t want anyone else to know right now. But if you told Flynn, I know he would understand. He just wants you to feel happy and comfortable around us, like you can be yourself.”

Wyatt let go of her hand to wipe at his eyes. “You—yeah, you’re right. I should. Um. I could come over tonight?”

“I have a faculty meeting but you’re welcome to go over and see Flynn. He’d be glad to see you.”

Wyatt nodded. “I’ll—yeah. I’ll do that, then.”

Joy appeared in the doorway. “Daddy, I want—oh no!” she cut herself off when she saw her father had clearly been crying, then ran over and clambered into his lap, hugging him.

“Thanks, ladybug,” Wyatt said, putting a hand to her back to keep her from falling off.

“Kiss it better?” Joy asked.

Lucy laughed. “I’ll leave her to it then.”

She couldn’t resist running her hand through his hair, her fingertips trailing down his cheek, as she stood up and pulled away. Wyatt looked at her, simultaneously confused and starving, and then Joy got his attention again and he was back to reassuring his daughter that no, Daddy’s fine, just a hard day.

Lucy quietly exited, texting Flynn.

_He’s got something to tell you. He’ll come by this evening. I think we have to go slower than we thought._

Flynn texted back almost at once.

_Okay._

 

* * *

 

Flynn was well aware that this probably blasted his feelings in a manner akin to putting up an eye-searing Vegas-level neon light display, but he made one of Wyatt’s favorite dinners. In a twist of fate, since Maria was from Texas, a lot of the American recipes that Flynn grew up with and knew how to make were the same kind of meals that Wyatt grew up with and loved eating.

What, he was nervous, Wyatt was nervous, this was a way to break the ice and relax them both.

He had no idea what Wyatt had to say to him, but he was bracing for the worst, given that Lucy had just said they’d need to move more slowly with Wyatt than they’d planned.

The knock at the door had him rolling his eyes. “It’s open!” They really should just get Wyatt a key at this point.

Wyatt walked in, looking around like a skittish rabbit, closing the door behind him. “Are those pork ribs?”

“You sound horribly suspicious. Do I need to eat one too to prove they’re not poisoned?”

“Har, har.”

Flynn indicated for Wyatt to sit down, then passed him a plate. “Lucy said you’d be coming over. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, uh…” Wyatt took a bite of food, paused, then glared at Flynn accusingly. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing with this.”

“With what?” Flynn asked innocently, sitting down with his own plate of food.

“Bribing me.”

“Logan, why would I ever bribe you when we both know I can just bulldoze my way through things?”

“Right, because that worked so well before.”

“Are you saying if I’d made you dinner instead of tied you to a chair you would’ve joined me in D.C.?” Flynn asked.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t such a surprise that Lucy had guessed Flynn’s, ah, crush on Wyatt.

“Maybe.” Wyatt took another bite.

Flynn’s chest warmed. He liked looking after Wyatt, because God knew Wyatt never took care of himself.

“Lucy said you wanted to talk to me about something. Did I… it was thoughtless, what I said the other night. And I want you to know…” He inhaled slowly, keeping his tone mild and even. “That I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

Wyatt nodded, looking down at his plate. “You were just having fun with me, like we always do. I don’t mind it, it’s what I—what I said, I—”

He stood up jerkily, bumping the table with his hip as he turned and started to pace. “I’m not good at this, fuck. Especially not with… you intimidate me.”

“God knows why, I don’t even have a weapon on me,” Flynn drawled.

Wyatt wrapped his arms around himself. “Flynn I’m—I’m—” He took in a deep breath and Flynn could see him shaking.

Flynn stood up, walking over. “Hey, hey, Wyatt.” He gently put his hands on Wyatt’s elbows. “It’s okay, whatever you’re going to tell me.”

Wyatt looked up at him and oh fuck, he’d never seen Wyatt look so scared. “I’m bi.”

Flynn gently rubbed his thumbs back and forth. “Okay. That’s okay. That’s more than okay.”

Wyatt looked away. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Flynn knew that Wyatt wasn’t really one for touching, or at least not touching Flynn. Flynn tried to respect that, to let Wyatt have the space that he needed. But this time as Flynn dared to draw him in, Wyatt slumped forward, his head coming to rest on Flynn’s shoulder like it had always belonged there.

Flynn wrapped his arms around Wyatt, hugging him tightly. After a moment, Wyatt worked his arms around Flynn’s shoulders, hugging back.

God, they fit well together. Flynn loved Lucy’s hugs, how her head nestled against his chest, how he could smile down at her, how he could pet her hair and hold her close. He and Lucy fit together. But he and Wyatt fit together too, Wyatt’s frame molding to his, Wyatt’s nose just barely brushing Flynn’s neck.

Wyatt shuddered a little. “It’s okay,” Flynn said. “Just breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Wyatt whispered.

“No, hey, you’re all right. I never… I never said anything, I don’t really tell, people, about… but my first relationship was with a man.”

He felt Wyatt freeze. “…yeah?”

“After him, Josip, it was Lorena, and then Lucy. So it hasn’t really come up. And I’m not… I don’t like to talk to people about who I’m with or who I want to be with.” The memory of Josip had softened over time, but Flynn didn’t think he’d ever stop blaming himself for being such a fool that he didn’t realize he was in love with the man until it was too late. “He died, in my arms.”

“Wow. That—that fucking sucks.”

“Yeah. I don’t want a pity party I just wanted you to know. I understand.”

“Lucy said that she’s bi.”

“Yes. We talked about it, when we first started sleeping together.”

“How did you know for sure? I mean, how did you know that it was real and not just some kind of weird curiosity?” Wyatt pulled away as he asked, still in Flynn’s arms but looking up at him, his face blotchy from crying, his blue eyes wet and wide.

Flynn struggled to swallow. “Usually you know… the same way you know you like a woman. If you’re also into women. Otherwise… sometimes you just have to try and see. Sexuality is hard, it’s fluid and confusing, and sometimes you’re not looking for something you’re looking for the absence of something and that makes it even harder.”

Wyatt had rather long eyelashes, Flynn thought. There was something terribly fragile about Wyatt. Something that made Flynn want to break and crash but that also wanted to make him, at the same time, go slow and soft.

“So I should just…” Wyatt gave a half-hearted smirk and shrugged one shoulder. “Go find a guy at a bar and see if it does anything?”

“It sounds to me like you already know,” Flynn said. “But I get that knowing and being ready to do anything are two… two very different things. So no, I wouldn’t suggest that.”

“You’re the one who said I had to try and see.”

Wyatt couldn’t possibly be hinting at what Flynn thought he was, but whether it was intentional or not, Flynn didn’t think he was strong enough to resist the temptation. He wished Lucy was here for this, but even if he started without her, he sure wouldn’t finish without her, and Wyatt was literally in his arms and practically clinging to him and all Flynn had to do was lean in and…

But, no, that would be too soon. Wyatt had come to him as a safe place, not as someone who’d take advantage of his vulnerability. Flynn didn’t want to accidentally make Wyatt uncomfortable or ruin their friendship by moving too fast. He should give Wyatt more time.

As he stood there paralyzed by indecision—between wanting and morality—a phone rang.

More specifically, Wyatt’s phone.

Flynn could tell because it was in Wyatt’s pocket and vibrated against their thighs.

Wyatt jumped back like Flynn had slapped him with a wet fish. “Ah, that might be—about Joy—I should—” He fumbled the phone out. “Jess?”

Flynn didn’t hear what Jess said, but Wyatt’s face spoke volumes. “I have to talk to her,” he admitted. “Can I… can I steal a room?”

“Go on upstairs, this’ll keep,” Flynn said, indicating the food.

Wyatt nodded gratefully and ran upstairs.

Flynn texted Lucy that she could come home whenever the meeting was over, and went to put the food in the oven so it would stay warm. A nice, relaxing evening of friendship. They could do that. Ease Wyatt into things again after the fiasco the other night.

Easy, right?

So long as he managed to keep his goddamn lust for Wyatt on a tight leash, anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, what’s up?” Wyatt asked, stepping into the upstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Jess said. “I know I should probably do this in person but I’m stuck at this thing until the contractor finishes. Don’t worry, Amy’s got Joy.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Wyatt replied, leaning against the sink. “I overreacted. You’ve got every right to be with someone and to tell me or not tell me. It’s your life.”

“But it’s not just my life,” Jess said. “It’s our life. You’re the father of my kid and you’re my closest friend and we live together. That means my love life affects you. I should have thought of that.”

“Did you think that I wouldn’t…” Wyatt swallowed, his stomach twisting. “Did you think I’d be angry? Because Amy’s a woman?”

Jess snorted. “I mean, with you and Flynn and Lucy, I knew you weren’t in any position to judge.”

Wyatt gripped the edge of the sink, his throat nearly closing up. “I—what? What do you mean?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Wyatt gripped the phone so hard he feared he’d break it. He felt cold all over.

“Wyatt, are you sure that there’s nothing… going on between you three?” Jess asked, sounding like she knew there was a land mine but she was stepping on it anyway.

“We’re friends.” Wyatt could barely get the words out. If Jess knew then Flynn and Lucy might know and Wyatt would never, ever forgive himself for being so obvious as to make them figure out that he wanted them.

He’d thought for a wild second earlier today that Lucy might kiss him, when she’d had her hand on his cheek and she’d been so soft with him. And then just now, if the phone hadn’t—if Jess hadn’t—he and Flynn almost never hugged and Flynn had been looking at him and Wyatt had wanted so badly and Flynn had been solid and tall and warm and his hands were—and his voice was—

“There’s nothing going on, Jess,” Wyatt said, even as his traitorous cock twitched at the thought of there being _something_ going on, the thought of Flynn ending that hug with a fierce, possessive kiss, the thought of Lucy accompanying her hand on his cheek with her mouth on his. He’d have let her press him down into the mattress, he’d have let Flynn order him upstairs in a whole different context, God, he’d let them do anything.

But wanting them and being willing to let them didn’t equal actually doing it.

“I thought there was a spark of something,” Jess replied. “You’re over there practically all the time. I guess I was wrong.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you had someone. I should’ve noticed.”

“No, it’s okay, really.”

“I’m happy for you,” Wyatt told her. “You know that, right? You deserve someone to make you happy and if Amy does that for you then I’m really, really glad.”

“Thanks.” He could hear the smile in Jess’s voice. “I’ll see you back at the apartment tonight then?”

“Yeah, Flynn and I are having dinner, Lucy should be home soon.”

“…Wyatt are you sure there’s nothing going on?”

“I’m sure, Jessica, have fun with the contractor, bye!”

He hung up.

Then he pressed the heel of his hand to the base of his cock because fuck, he did not need to be getting hard thinking about Flynn fucking him on the kitchen table.

…but what if Flynn had. What if Flynn had kissed him and kissed him and kissed him and then turned him around and bent him over the table and slapped his ass and told him to spread ‘em and…

Wyatt listened carefully. Downstairs he could faintly hear the television. This was the guest bedroom, Flynn and Lucy rarely went into it.

Oh, God, he was going to hell for this.

He grabbed the hand lotion and braced his free hand on the counter, undoing his pants just enough to pull his cock out.

Flynn would take his time wouldn’t he? Get Wyatt nice and open and loose, wait until Wyatt was begging for him. And what if Lucy came home in the middle of it, made some quip about them starting the fun without her, kissed Wyatt as Flynn fucked into him hard and sloppy…

Oh, fuck, he couldn’t believe he was doing this, he could not believe he was _doing_ this, but he couldn’t stop, he had to take the edge off before he went downstairs and had to have them right a few feet away from him, unable to touch them, when he wanted to just sink to his goddamn knees and say _please, please,_ especially now that they knew, they knew he was—and they were—Flynn especially—

Lucy’s hand on his cheek, Lucy pinning him to the bed and straddling him and her slim hips rolling over him as she told him this is nothing, wait until Flynn can get his hands on you too, Flynn’s arms around him, his smell, ordering Wyatt to bend over, hot and hard inside of—

Shit, he’d gotten some of it on the mirror.

Wyatt’s legs felt like jelly, his body tingling all over. He cleaned up quickly with the tissues he found in the cupboard and washed his hands, then headed back downstairs.

Flynn was sprawled out on the couch, the news playing in the background as he looked at what appeared to be schematics. He looked up as Wyatt came down the stairs. “I was just about to send a search party.”

“Jess and I had a fight the other day,” Wyatt admitted. “We had to talk it out.”

“Everything all right?”

God, he wanted to just walk over and sit in Flynn’s lap. “Yeah, it is now. We patched it up.”

Flynn gave him a small smile. “Lucy let me know she’ll be home in a few minutes. Want to have dinner and finish that marathon?”

Wyatt found himself grinning before he could even think about it. “Hell yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“You see what I mean?” Lucy whispered much, much later, in bed in the dark, her finger tracing the outline of his mouth.

Flynn couldn’t see her face very well with just the moonlight peeking through the curtains, but he knew what expression her face would hold anyway. He wrapped his arms around her and Lucy snuggled into his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

“Yes, I see,” he admitted. “We’ll have to be careful. Give him time to adjust to being comfortable with his sexuality.”

Lucy hummed her agreement. “Good thing I do so love fucking you in the meantime.”

Flynn chuckled. “However will you manage?”

“Oh, darling.” He felt a hot, openmouthed kiss to his neck. “I have so many ideas. I’m far from through with you.”

Then, quieter, “I’ll never be through with you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “I will never be through with you either, _moja draga_.”

A hundred lifetimes, and he’ d never be through with her.


	4. Chapter 4

It was about a week after he’d come out to them that Lucy passed him a key.

“You’re over all the time anyway,” she said. “And you pick up groceries and stuff for us. Might as well have one.”

It was true, and she said it so casually that Wyatt was sure it didn’t mean much to her. Rufus had a key to his and Jess’s apartment since he and Jiya babysat Joy a lot, and Lucy had a key to Amy’s place. After being cooped up in one house with one another for so long, they couldn’t quite seem to sever the cord connecting them, and although they now all lived in different homes they were still running in and out of each other’s places, living somewhat in each other’s pockets.

He tried to keep his hands from shaking as he took the key, shoving it into his pocket. “Thanks, Luce.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Now we don’t have to worry if we left the door unlocked for you.”

Having a key did make it a lot easier. Wyatt hadn’t realized how many times he’d dropped by with only a cursory text to let them know he was coming, wanting to ask for Flynn’s help with a case or being hired by Flynn to do things that, as a legitimate private security firm, Flynn couldn’t quite do on his own. Or just to watch the game since Lucy and Flynn had a big television and Jess threatened to garrote him if he watched anymore football around her and, well, if Flynn had gotten Wyatt all passionate about soccer then it was only damn well fair that he let Wyatt drag him into rooting for the Cowboys. Or he dropped by because he’d fallen asleep on the couch again and had left something behind in his mad scramble to get out the door in the morning. Or to borrow a book from Lucy or return a book he’d borrowed from her previously.

Point was, he stopped by Lucy and Flynn’s a lot, and half the time he didn’t give them a warning or only gave them a kind of, last minute sort of warning.

In fact he was wondering to himself if he should give them a key to his apartment since there might come a time when they’d need it… he didn’t know why, he thought as he entered the house, when Lucy and Flynn babysat they had Joy at their place… Wyatt kicked his shoes off and headed towards the stairs to go up to Flynn’s office and borrow the lockpick kit since his had broken… but still if they gave him a key it was only fair…

“Oh _fuck_.”

Wyatt froze, his foot on the first landing of the stairs.

That—that sounded like Flynn. But not… not hurt, more like…

“Last I checked, that’s not my name.” Lucy’s voice was practically a purr.

Oh. Holy. Mother. Of. God.

There were a few moments of silence, but Wyatt could very well imagine a lot of things that filled that silence.

“You know how to ask me,” Lucy said. Wyatt’s pants were way too damn tight and he had to grip the banister. “ _Beg_.”

The amount of command infused in her voice had Wyatt dizzy with need. Holy fucking shit. He’d beg, all right, if that was what Lucy wanted. Oh God.

Flynn made a strangled noise and Wyatt heard what sounded like—holy shit had she just—was she spanking Flynn?

Jesus Christ he was so hard he thought he might fall over.

“Go on,” Lucy cooed. “Beg your mistress.”

Wyatt suspected he was gripping the banister hard enough to give himself splinters. He slid his hand into his jeans, squeezing his cock, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

Flynn’s response was just about instantaneous. “Please, please, ma’am, please can I touch you.”

“Very good.” He heard what sounded like shifting around, perhaps Lucy adjusting her position. “You get me to come, and I’ll consider letting you fuck me, how’s that sound?”

…so this was where and how he died, cool, cool, this was… this was fine.

Wait what the fuck, was he really standing here listening to this?

Wyatt yanked his hand out of his jeans. Oh, fuck, no, he was not going to be the creepy asshole who listened in on two other people having sex. Yes he was in love with those two people but fuck no, they didn’t know he was here and he really, really doubted they’d want him to be listening in and even if they did it wasn’t like he’d asked permission.

He had to get the fuck out of here without them hearing him. Thank God he’d taken off his shoes.

Wyatt tiptoed—difficult when he was still hard, he probably looked like an absolute moron—back to the front door, jammed his feet into his shoes, and slipped out.

He was pretty sure he didn’t actually breathe until he was about five minutes away from home. Which was when he pulled over to the side of the road, _thunked_ his forehead onto the steering wheel, and tried to process what the everloving _fuck_ had just happened.

Okay. Okay, so, he, uh, he really wanted Lucy to order him around like that. He wanted to call her ma’am and mistress and—wow his throat was really dry—yeah all right he could hear himself begging her just like that. _Please, please let me touch you…_

He really wanted Flynn to order him around like that too but holy fuck, he hadn’t considered the appeal of watching Lucy to that to Flynn, or of… he couldn’t forget that one sound…

Jesus Christ.

_Please, please, mistress._

_If you’re very good…_

Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

 

* * *

 

“You know how to ask me,” Lucy had told him. “ _Beg_.”

Flynn was very good at that.

He shouldn’t have underestimated Lucy’s arsenal, though. Because right after she guided his hand between her legs and told him if he was good she’d let him fuck her, she said, “You’re so very good for me… do you think Wyatt will be this good? Hmm?”

Oh holy hell.

Flynn slid his fingers through Lucy’s slid folds, sinking them into her. She hummed with satisfaction. “Or do you think we’ll have to train him? Think he’ll be feisty? Think he’ll fight back a little? I think he will—I think he’ll want us to be stern. Mark that pretty ass of his up, don’t you think?”

“You’re not playing fair,” Flynn growled.

“Am I not?” Lucy took his chin in her hand as she ground down onto his fingers, gasping sharply as he found just the right spot and speeding up her thrusts. “Be honest—ah, _ah_ —you want him to be right—where—you are now. You want him to call you ‘sir’ and beg you to fuck him—”

“You know I want that,” Flynn replied, kissing her roughly. He could feel Lucy’s smile against his mouth. “You don’t have to rub it in. You’re trying to distract me, _draga_.”

Lucy moaned as he rubbed his thumb over her clit. “Maybe.”

“Not going to work.” He curled his fingers and Lucy bit his lip, shuddering, his hand slick as she came.

Lucy practically shoved his hand away from her and sank down onto his cock. Flynn groaned, grabbing at her, kissing her as it got messy and uncoordinated, their hands sliding all over each other and their mouths sucking bruises into every place they could reach.

When they finally collapsed together, Lucy looked like that smirk was never going to come off. “It’s hard to be patient,” she admitted.

“I know.” Lucy had been terrified that Flynn didn’t love her in return, and he’d been just as scared, and so they had taken an absurdly long time to admit their feelings. But that was the only instance he knew of where Lucy had been at all patient. She liked results and to get things done, to cross it off the to do list.

He reached up, his thumb just barely skimming over her sweat-damp cheek. “But he has to explore just wanting a man first. We can be patient.”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, we can be.” She paused. “I hope giving him a key helped.”

That reminded him of something. “Did you hear a car pull up? Earlier?”

“Maybe just the UPS guy? Nobody rang the doorbell.”

“…huh.”

Maybe he’d imagined it.

 

* * *

 

When Wyatt got back he found Jiya, Jess, and Amy all laughing with a bottle of wine. Jiya grinned at him as he entered, holding the bottle aloft. “Join us!”

“I’m not sure he’ll want to,” Jess said warily.

“Why?” Wyatt waved away the bottle. Wine was just sour grape juice and despite the worldwide conspiracy to convince him it was actually amazing and fancy, he was not drinking it when Jess had taught him how to make a perfectly good cocktail.

“We’re talking about strap ons,” Jess said, deadpan, clearly thinking it would send Wyatt running for the hills.

Wyatt paused in making his drink. “So those things really work, huh?”

Jess gaped at him. “You seriously want in on this conversation? You hated this kind of stuff! You didn’t even want to talk about my vibrator!”

“Yeah, well, maybe my not wanting to talk about it was part of why we divorced, pass me that lemon.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I’m not responsible for any mental trauma.”

“So how is it good for the person wearing the strap on?” Jiya asked.

“You can get kinds that give you clit stimulation,” Amy said. “Or a double dildo.”

“That’s a thing?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

“How do you even know what size to get?”

“Well, how do you know what size to get when you buy a regular dildo?”

Wyatt was dying to know the answer to that one.

Just in this tiny, two minute conversation he was realizing that there was a fuckton of stuff he didn’t know—or hadn’t experienced. How the hell was he supposed to ask Flynn to fuck him or… or ask Lucy to…

If he was on his back, Lucy fucking him, ordering him, _inside_ him…

Okay. Okay, yeah, if Lucy felt like putting on a strap on maybe that was… he’d already accepted he was bi so what the hell was a little fantasizing about Lucy and/or Flynn (oh God what if they took turns) fucking him?

Not that he planned on asking either of them to fuck him. But at least maybe he’d get a little more satisfaction than he did just jacking off in the shower. At least he’d get to pretend better. And maybe, if in some wild universe where he actually did get to be with them, he’d be prepared.

“Trial and error,” Jess answered for him. “Go with the smaller size if you’re unsure. But once you’ve been with a guy you get a feel for size and all.”

Wyatt nodded. But wouldn’t it be different for a man versus a woman?

Oh God he needed help.

But he wasn’t about to ask his ex-wife, or his ex-wife’s girlfriend, or his best friend’s wife, that kind of shit. They’d want to know why he was asking, and he wasn’t quite ready to tell them about being… well…

It wasn’t like he thought they’d make fun or reject him. Jess was literally sleeping with another woman, for crying out loud. He just… he couldn’t even say why, exactly, he just wasn’t ready to say anything to them yet. Maybe once he got over Flynn and Lucy, got more comfortable with this whole thing, once he’d actually even touched his own ass, he’d be able to say it. Maybe then it would feel more real.

“I remember Lucy took me shopping,” Amy said. “There’s this store and she bought me lunch and took me in and helped me shop.”

Wyatt needed someone like that. He didn’t trust the internet.

Or, rather, he didn’t trust himself to know what the hell he was doing on the internet.

But who could he ask to go with him? Who would have no judgement, plus experience, and wasn’t a part of their near-codependent time team?

 

* * *

 

“I am dying of excitement, let me tell you,” Stacy informed him.

“We’re going in and we’re getting one thing,” Wyatt told her. “One. Thing.”

Stacy looked about the same as she had in Delta, with the exception that she was currently wearing a pair of leather pants and a bright pink top instead of combat gear. “Whatever you say, big boy.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and forced himself to walk into the shop before he did something stupid like throw up.

Stacy practically bounced at his side as they entered. Soft music was playing in the background and everything looked… well, classy. It was a bit of a surprise. “I gotta say, Logan, you are much more fun than I remember you being.”

“This is kind of a new thing, okay?” he said, perhaps a tad defensively. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“That was literally the first thing you said to me when you called,” Stacy pointed out. “You can’t tell anyone about this, Martindale. I thought you needed help burying a body.”

“Why would I need help burying a body?”

“You piss people off a lot.”

Wyatt looked around. “Um…”

Stacy grinned, pointing. “Oh, look, costumes!”

“Absolutely not.” No fucking way. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back before she could dash over to try on a French maid’s outfit or something. “Not into crossdressing.”

“Yet.”

“I will hurt you.” He paused. “I will attempt to hurt you. I will probably fail. But an attempt will be made.”

“Who even said the outfits were for you? Maybe they’d be for whoever it is helped you realize you are gay as a three dollar bill?”

The image of Flynn as Bond flashed through his mind again and he swallowed. “Look, I just want to get a…” He paused.

“If you can’t say it, Logan, you’re too young to be doing it.”

“A dildo, fine, you happy?”

“Need some help?” someone asked.

Wyatt jumped, literally, his heart fucking leaping in his chest. “Jesus Christ!”

The saleswoman stared at him, looking a little concerned. She had short dark brown hair done in a pixie cut, shining dark skin, and a bright blue streak of hair that matched her nails. “Do you need help finding something? Perhaps in our couple’s section?”

Stacy grinned. “Oh no, we’re not together.” She took Wyatt’s arm and leaned in conspiratorially. “My buddy here would like to buy his first dildo. He’s a _beginner_.”

“Why do you say it like that. Why.”

“There’s no judgement here,” the saleswoman assured him.

“Not from you, maybe,” Wyatt grumbled.

The saleswoman managed to keep her face neutral, probably after some valiant effort, but her eyes were sparkling with humor. “If you’ll follow me, I can help point you in the right direction. Did you have anything in particular you were looking for? Size, shape, appearance?”

“…does appearance even matter?” Wyatt asked, his voice cracking a little as Stacy dragged him after the saleswoman, following her deeper into the store.

“Some people prefer a realistic looking one, others prefer one that is stylish, with a bright color, perhaps.” The saleswoman—Gail, Wyatt saw on her name tag—picked up one to show him.

“It looks like a piece of modern art,” Wyatt admitted. Literally, he wouldn’t have been surprised if that was in the local MOMA with some pretentious name like _the weariness of our existence in pink no. 1._

Gail laughed. “I suppose. But people appreciate things being pretty to look at and it’s a bit more discreet than, say, this.”

She held up another one, and okay, wow, that literally looked like a dick.

Whatever Wyatt’s face did must have been priceless because Stacy burst into peals of laughter. “Oh my God, oh my _God_ , Logan your _face_ —”

“I take it you’d probably want the first option then,” Gail guessed.

Wyatt could well imagine what would happen if his daughter found the second option. “Yes, please,” he said meekly. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Oh my Lord,” Stacy said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I have a two-year-old at home, Martindale, she can’t find something like that!”

“Using your daughter as an excuse, that’s a low blow there.”

“So are you looking for something a little smaller?” Gail asked, gesturing at the rows of toys. “Most people want to sort of work their way up.”

“Is it possible to…” Wyatt swallowed. “Um, is it—even if it doesn’t look, um, natural, can the shape be more like what you’d… find… for real?”

Gail nodded, selecting a few. “These might be a big on the large side so I recommend a lot of prep, and we can pick out some lube for you.”

“Scented?” Stacy said hopefully. “Strawberry flavored?”

“I will make you wait in the car.”

Gail was clearly struggling to maintain her composure and not laugh outright. “Any particular reason you want to get one that’s more realistic?”

Wyatt shrugged. _I want to be able to imagine it’s Flynn, or Lucy because God knows she’s gonna have a life-size one._ “I’ve never… um, only two of my friends know I’m out.”

Stacy pinched him.

Wyatt yelped. “Ouch! Okay three, three of my friends, you sadist!”

“Are you two siblings?” Gail asked.

“He wishes,” Stacy replied.

“Look, I just came out,” Wyatt said, elbowing Stacy. “And I’ve never actually been with a guy and I don’t know that I ever will, and I’m also—I’m bi, sorry, should I have led with that? I’m bi—I also kind of liked the idea of a woman, um, it’s called a strap on, right? So. I just wanted. I wanted to see if I really was into it and get comfortable and if I just get one of those finger ones or whatever I’m worried that I’ll panic when—if—I’m ever actually with someone and the full size thing is right there.”

Stacy put a hand on his arm. “That was beautiful.”

“I will kill you with that dildo.”

“I completely understand,” Gail said smoothly. “None of us want to choke in the moment and ruin what can be a great time of intimacy with our partner.”

Stacy’s grin was terrifyingly shark-like. Wyatt could practically hear the _Jaws_ theme.

“What I would recommend,” Gail said, “is getting our trainer kit.”

“Your… I’m sorry?” Wyatt’s voice squeaked again.

Stacy looked like this was the best day of her goddamn life.

“It’s a three pack,” Gail explained, walking over and grabbing it to show him. “You start out small, then can work your way up. The handle at the bottom here helps you to get a good grip, and they have a vibrating setting as well.”

Wyatt gingerly took the pack from her.

“It’s not a bomb, Logan,” Stacy said.

“No, I can handle bombs,” Wyatt snapped back.

Gail walked over to the lube section, picking a couple more things out and bringing them over. “I’d also recommend buying some condoms so you can practice putting them on.”

“I can put a condom on.”

“Can you,” Stacy muttered.

Wyatt kicked her in the shin.

“You’d be surprised at how different it is when it’s someone else,” Gail said.

There was an oddly knowing tone to her voice. “Sorry, are you…”

Gail winked at him. “Started treatments a few years ago when I moved out here.”

“You’re beautiful,” Stacy assured her.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Gail replied. “Shall I bag all this for you?”

Wyatt quickly handed the stuff back over and then glared at Stacy. “You are not flirting with our saleswoman.”

“I will flirt with whomever I please and dyed hair is my weakness,” Stacy said staunchly. “Hey, Gail, mind holding that for us at the register while I give him a tour of the store?”

“Sure thing. You have any questions, just ask me.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.” Stacy gave Gail a beaming smile and then dragged Wyatt off to another part of the store.

“I said I was getting one thing!” Wyatt hissed.

“But don’t you want to just look?” Stacy asked. “You’re here, you can ask questions and pick stuff up and really see what you might have just been daydreaming about. You want to know what anal beads are? You want to know what a flogger looks like? You want to see how vampire gloves feel? It’s all here.”

“I don’t even know what that last one is and I’m scared to find out.”

“Explore,” Stacy said firmly, shoving him in the back. “While I go get Gail’s number.”

“Traitor!”

Stacy was already moving over to talk to Gail, so Wyatt figured… well. She had a point.

The pain stuff he pretty much skipped over. He’d been in enough situations where people had actually wanted him to feel pain. When you’d faced a real whip, a play flogger didn’t seem as fun anymore.

The handcuffs were interesting. There were nice leather ones with fur on the inside. Huh. And rope.

Glancing to make sure Stacy couldn’t see, Wyatt wound one of the lengths of rope around his wrist, tugging.

Heat pooled low in his gut.

He let go of the rope and moved on.

The outfits were all a bit… cheesy for him. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of role play but if he wore one of those costumes or saw Lucy or Flynn in one of them he’d just be laughing too hard to get into it.

Wow, there were a lot of books about sex. Wyatt perused a few, decided the Kama Sutra was far too complicated for him, and was turning to go back to Stacy when something else caught his eye.

He glanced over at Stacy. She was definitely chatting up Gail, her back to Wyatt.

He slid over to get a closer look.

The collar came in black and in silver, the first leather and the second some kind of metal. Both had a line of soft white fur on the inside—for long term use, the label said. He could see some leather collars without the fur, presumably for a shorter session, hanging next to these ones. A mirror hung nearby.

Wyatt glanced over at Stacy. She was now admiring Gail’s nail color.

He slipped the silver collar off the rack, stepped over to the mirror, and slid it on.

The clasp clicking into place sounded like a clap of thunder and he could see his face go red in the mirror. He swallowed and felt the collar tight against his skin.

It looked… it looked…

He imagined Lucy’s fingers trailing over it, petting his throat as Flynn stood behind him and clicked it into place. A collared shirt going over it, hiding it.

_Will you wear it for us? All day?_

Wyatt quickly took the collar off before the heat building between his legs got bad enough that it became noticeable to someone who looked south of his waist.

The silver was a bit too… shiny. He hung it back up. The black leather, though…

If just a collar around his throat felt good, though, what would a hand feel like? A large hand, rough, Flynn’s hand, squeezing?

Wyatt had to force himself to breathe deeply. If Flynn choked him, Wyatt was pretty sure he’d come on the goddamn spot.

Flynn would never do that, though, because Flynn didn’t want him. So what was the harm in buying a collar that would do the same thing for him, or at least as close to the same thing as he’d ever get?

But Stacy would see it. And while Wyatt trusted her… he didn’t quite want to share something like this with her.

He’d come back another time. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

Lucy stared down at the stick, her hand shaking where it gripped the edge of the sink.

Negative.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Lucy?”

She quickly wrapped the stick in tissue and shoved it into the bottom of the trash can. “Just washing my hands!”

Flynn opened the door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She met his eyes in the mirror. “Garcia? Can we…” Her voice wobbled and she cleared her throat to steady it. “I think maybe it’s time we called Mason and had him… had his team take a look.”

Flynn watched her as she dried off her hands and turned to face him. “There is always adoption. Plenty of children need homes.”

“But you want a child of your own,” Lucy whispered. “If it is me, if the time travel did something… I want answers. I want to know.”

Flynn looked at her for a long moment, his eyes soft and sad. “All right. If that’s what you want. Mason’s team can run some tests.”

She nodded, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’ll call him, then.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt sat down on the bed and picked up the dildo.

Jess had taken Amy and Joy on a walk to the park and to get frozen yogurt, so he figured he had some time—at least an hour, anyway.

Right. Okay. He could do this.

Nobody was watching him. Nobody could hear or see him. So why was he so nervous?

Maybe… he tugged his shirt off. Maybe because it didn’t really take a lot of exploration to rub one out. You got your palm wet, got a good grip, and you just worked it up and down. Rocket science, it was not.

But this required actually working himself up, actually exploring and figuring things out, and that was fucking scary.

He had a huge rush of sympathy for every woman out there and if he and Jess had still been together, he would have gone down on her a few times as a major apology.

He also felt fucking stupid, just doing it to himself, but if he couldn’t do it to himself then how could it be fair to put that responsibility on someone else? Tell them, what, here, you do it, you make me feel good? Yeah, right. And what if the positions were switched? He wanted to make whoever he was with feel good too.

Right. He could do this. Sure.

Wyatt closed his eyes, imagining it was Lucy coming up behind him, her hand sliding down his chest instead of his own. _We’re going to go nice and slow today._ She’d pinch his nipple a little, make him gasp, toy with him.

Or what if it was Flynn’s mouth, biting down, sucking a little, worrying it between his teeth…

He slid his hand lower, palming himself through his sweats. _Getting all hard for me, sweetheart?_ He imagined Flynn’s voice growling low in his ear, that it was Flynn rubbing his thumb over the slit of Wyatt’s cock through the fabric.

 _So responsive_ , Lucy would murmur as she pushed Wyatt’s pants down, as she slid a slick finger down, rubbing, finding the spot that made him jerk, his cock pulsing. _We’ll get you nice and wet for us first, don’t worry._

He fell back onto the bed—imagined Flynn pushing him down, coming to straddle him, pin him, feeling Flynn hard just like he was—rolled over, had to kneel a little, the angle was awkward but he figured it out and slowly, trying to remember his research (his search history was forever tainted), worked his fingers in.

It wasn’t quite what he wanted, and the burn of it wasn’t too pleasant to start out with, but he pictured Lucy whispering in his ear, telling him he was doing so well, being so good for them, and then he found an angle that _oh holy fucking shit._

So that was what all the fuss was about.

He kept working himself open, scared about tearing something when he finally got the thing in but wanting it, wanting something a little bigger that could reach back and hit that spot every time. He grabbed the lube again, grabbed the toy, slicked it up—

Fuck. Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut. Okay, okay, just breathe through it. What looked average and normal in his hand suddenly felt monstrous when it was trying to go inside him.

 _Fuck him nice and good for me_ , he imagined Lucy ordering, Flynn being the one to slide inside, and as he finally worked it in he hit that spot again and his whole body felt like it was on fire and _please please_ he’d beg so well for them he would and Lucy would pet his hair and tell him to hold on and Flynn wouldn’t be gentle he’d just fucking take and use him and Lucy would pet his throat and say _you’re ours now_ and he’d say _yes, yes, yours_ , and oh holy mother of _Christ_ —

Wyatt slumped forward onto the bed, right onto the goddamn wet patch, the dildo still inside him, everything tingling.

Okay. So. That. That could be counted as a success.

He eyed the two larger sizes.

So… maybe Gail had had a point about the whole working himself up to it thing. Although, the stretch had been nice towards the end but he kind of wanted more of it.

And Flynn was six feet four inches…

Wyatt’s phone went off with a text and he scrambled, nearly falling off the bed. What if Jess and the girls had come home early and heard him and she was telling him he’d been too damn loud, what if…

It was from Lucy.

_We’re going to Mason’s to get me tested. To see if I can’t get pregnant._

Wyatt’s stomach dropped out for an entirely different reason.

_Do you want me to come over tonight? I’ll bring ice cream._

There was a long, painful pause, and then…

 _Please_.

A few moments later he got a text from Flynn.

_Hey if you could come over tonight. I think we’ll need distracting._

Wyatt’s brain was happy to supply many ways that he could distract the both of them, but he shoved all that aside. They needed him to be their friend. That’s what he would be.

_Of course. I’ll be there._


	5. Chapter 5

The appointment with Mason’s scientists had been about as invasive and strangely mundane and uncomfortable as Lucy had suspected.

“Please,” she gasped into Flynn’s mouth as they stumbled into the house, the door slamming shut behind them. “I want that goddamn—want your hands—Garcia—”

Flynn yanked her jacket off, working his hands under her blouse, undoing her bra even as he didn’t stop kissing her. She shivered, pushing into it, practically ripping his turtleneck up and over his head. She wanted his touch to replace that cold, clinical, scary touch, she wanted him to warm her, to make her forget what they’d just had to do, to forget what the results might show, to forget the fear that clamped around her heart.

They left a trail of clothes up the stairs, pausing in the second floor hallway for Flynn to suck a hickey into her neck and for her to rake her nails down his back, to get a hand around his cock and stroke in that slow teasing way that made him buck his his up and growl, for him to tug on a handful of her hair and make her cry out. Contrary to what their friends probably thought, they did have good old regular sex. Doing scenes took time and preparation, especially since it could be mentally and emotionally jarring to be interrupted during one, if she was really taking Flynn out of his head or really getting into her own dominating headspace.

And really, just logistically, tying someone up took time, dammit.

So right now, she was not about to bust out the toys. They landed roughly on the bed and Flynn got a leg up over her as she bit into his shoulder, two of his fingers sliding inside of her, his smirk buried in her hair as she whimpered. She ran her hands over his chest, screwing her hips down onto his fingers,  _God_ if nothing else they knew how to fuck each other, they’d always known how to fuck each other. And Flynn knew, now, when she wanted him close, when she wanted him all around her and so he didn’t pull away to kiss down her body and get his mouth between her legs (as much as she did love that), he just kept touching her like this as she gave him a string of bruises up his body like a trail of leopard’s spots, like brands, like tattoos.

“I’m ready,” she told him, kissing up his jaw, her hands in his hair, his arms (yes, she had a thing for them, shut up) bracketing her.

Usually she was on top because, hello, a foot of height difference, but she wanted him over her today, wanted to feel held, covered, pressed down into the mattress.

Flynn seemed to know how much this was affecting her because he didn’t stop kissing her, even as he slid inside her, even as she dug her heel into his lower back, wanting him deeper, even as they started to move together. She wasn’t sure she was devoured or devouring, but she did know at some point tears started to slip free, no matter how much she tried to drown herself instead in her husband’s love.

She knew, she was raised by an educated woman who for all her flaws believed in the power of women and she knew that there was no failure in being unable to have a child. It didn’t take away from her identity or her value. She knew that.

But it felt so cruel, to want something only to not be able to have it. It felt like the universe was laughing at her again. She could have her sister, but not her mother. She could have this, but not that. Her husband, but not a child.

Flynn kissed her cheeks. “Lucy, Lucy, do you—hey, look at me, do you need to stop, are you all right?”

“You’re not hurting me.” She squeezed his biceps, ran her hands up to his hair, lovingly pushing it out of his eyes. “I’m okay.”

Flynn’s expression showed that he clearly didn’t believe her. “It’s going to be all right. Whatever the results are. It’s going to be all—”

Lucy kissed him, cutting him off, swallowing the rest of the words. She snaked her tongue into his mouth, stroking, her hips arching up. Flynn got his arm under her lower back, helping raise her up, finding a better angle, and she cried out into his mouth, nearly bit his lip.

“ _Volim te_ ,” he whispered, kissing the ridge of her cheek. “Nothing’s ever changing that, Lucy. Nothing.”

She knew that, she knew that, she was just so sick of not getting what she wanted, she was so sick of the curveballs, she felt inadequate, _not good enough_ , her mother’s voice whispered, _not good enough to give your husband a child, not good enough to be a mother, not good enough—_

She rode Flynn hard, taking everything, relishing that if nothing else, he did love her, and she did trust that. If nothing else.

She tasted salt when she came.

 

* * *

 

The last person Wyatt expected to see when he opened the door was Lucy.

“Can I come in?” she asked. Her eyes were red and blotchy.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Wyatt held the door open for her. “What’s wrong?”

Lucy sniffed aggressively, wiping at her eyes. “I got the results.”

Oh. He was guessing it wasn’t good.

Lucy threw her hands out, avoiding looking Wyatt in the eye. “I was right. It’s me. Time travel fucked it up.”

“Luce…”

“Mason’s going to ask Jiya if she wants to come in, and Jess, but Jess got pregnant before she time traveled so. That’s how Joy’s here. But if Jess wants another kid she should probably go in too.”

“So what’s wrong, is it the eggs or…”

Lucy shrugged. “Apparently. Apparently my—it’s not the eggs my, my body won’t—” She started crying, hard. Oh, fuck. “I’ve been pregnant three times. It just didn’t take, my body rejected it—only a couple weeks in so I had no idea—”

Jesus Christ. Wyatt stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. Lucy immediately soaked his shirt with her tears as she used it for a tissue. “I was pregnant, I _was_ pregnant, I—three times—we could’ve had a baby three—th-three t-times—”

“Okay, I’m gonna have to ask you to breathe with me, okay?” She was starting to hiccup. Wyatt inhaled deeply and slowly, his hand on Lucy’s back to feel her do the same. “Just like that. Breathe with me. And we’re exhaling. Inhaling… exhaling…”

Lucy’s hiccups slowly quieted. Wyatt felt his vision blurring and blinked rapidly. Fuck, Lucy and Flynn wanted this so badly. They deserved a kid, why couldn’t they get one?

“Have you told Flynn?”

He felt Lucy shake her head. “Not—not yet. I wanted to be a little calmer.”

“He won’t care, Lucy. He’ll adopt if that’s what you want, he literally won’t care.”

“I just feel like I failed,” Lucy whispered.

“This isn’t your fault. None of us even know this was a possibility, that this was—I mean how could you know this was something to worry about? And saving the world, I mean Jesus, who has time to think, how did any of us have time to think about something like that when we all thought we were gonna die?”

“I know that. Logically.” Lucy gave another sob. “But that doesn’t stop it from hurting, it hurts so much, I thought I was done hurting I thought was done with—with Rittenhouse and time travel hurting me I thought I was done—I thought—”

Jess emerged from her bedroom, looking confused and sleepy. Wyatt made a phone sign with his free hand and mouthed _call Flynn_. Jess nodded and vanished back into the bedroom.

“Here, we’re going to sit down, okay?” Wyatt guided Lucy to the couch. “I’m gonna get you some water.”

She nodded, wiping at her nose. Wyatt grabbed her some water and some tissues for good measure.

Lucy sipped at the water. “You got anything stronger?”

“Nothing that we’ll let you drink.”

Wyatt sat down next to her and Lucy curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He nudged her to keep sipping at her water. He rested his arm around her shoulders and Lucy went through the whole pack of tissues.

About ten minutes later—Flynn must’ve broken a few speeding laws—there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Wyatt called.

The door opened and Flynn walked in, looking nearly frantic. The moment he saw Lucy his shoulders sagged in relief. “I thought she might be hurt,” he admitted, walking over.

Lucy burst out crying all over again. Flynn pulled her into his arms and looked at Wyatt, alarmed. Wyatt shrugged. He wasn’t going to spill Lucy’s news for her.

“Hey, darling, hey,” Flynn crooned, petting Lucy’s hair. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

Lucy wrapped her arms around his neck, and Wyatt could see her nails digging into Flynn’s shirt, like she thought he’d try and leave.

Wyatt stood up. “You want me to help you get her home?” It was pretty clear that Lucy was in some kind of panic attack, and she wasn’t going to be leaving it any time soon.

Flynn worked his hand underneath Lucy’s legs, scooping her up. “Yes, please, thanks.”

The drive back was quiet. Wyatt held open the doors for Flynn so he could carry Lucy inside, and got some water and melatonin and brought it to the bedroom. Flynn coaxed Lucy into having it, and Wyatt went downstairs to wait while Flynn held Lucy until she fell asleep.

Wyatt sank down onto the couch, breathing heavily. Jesus.

He ran a hand through his hair. Lucy tended to bottle her pain up. To wait and wait and wait until it spilled over. He’d seen it before, with her mom, with her sister, with her feelings for Flynn. A side effect, he assumed, of thinking she had to be the strong one, of thinking she wasn’t allowed to be ‘weak’.

Wyatt could relate to that.

Flynn’s tread was heavy as he walked down the stairs. “You didn’t have to stay,” he noted.

“Course I did.”

Flynn sat down next to him, arms draped over his knees, shoulders caved in, hair a mess. “She’s asleep.”

“Did you tell you why she was upset?”

Flynn scrubbed a hand across his face. “I already knew. Mason sent me the report too.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“There’s still options, besides adoption. Her eggs are fine, it’s just—did she tell you she was actually—her body just rejected—” Flynn swallowed hard and Wyatt realized with a jolt that Flynn was actually starting to cry.

He’d never seen Flynn cry before. He wasn’t surprised that it was a contained, silent affair.

“Yeah,” Wyatt whispered. “Yeah, she told me.”

Flynn nodded, looking absolutely miserable.

Before Wyatt knew what he was doing he was moving in, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s shoulders. Flynn grabbed him, pulled him in, and Wyatt tucked his chin over Flynn’s head so that Flynn could muffle the sound he made in Wyatt’s chest, his legs draped over Flynn’s lap, and fuck he was basically in Flynn’s lap and holding him as Flynn cried and Wyatt would never, ever in a million years have thought this would happen.

“I don’t care,” Flynn admitted roughly, his forehead pressed against Wyatt’s throat. “I do, I want—we’ve always talked about—I want a little piece of her. Of both of us. I want a kid with—with her big smile and her bright eyes, I want something we made but it’s the love that matters, and if she’s okay with adopting then I am too but I’m not okay with—with this destroying her, it’s just eating her up and I don’t know how to convince her that I’m okay, that I don’t care.”

“She loves you,” Wyatt replied. “She wants to give you what she knows you want. And it’s Lucy, I mean, she still thinks she has to be perfect.”

“She didn’t choose this, I know she doesn’t want this. I don’t blame her, she hasn’t failed me. She couldn’t fail me. I _love_ her.”

“Yeah, any idiot can see that. Sometimes our insecurities are louder than the love people are showing us.” Wyatt’s own insecurities had been louder than Jess’s love, and it had nearly destroyed them both. “She’ll get better. And you can explore options. Like surrogacy.”

Flynn nodded, and Wyatt could feel the movement against his skin, Flynn’s warm breath ghosting over his collarbone, and fuck, this was a dangerous position. Not even for, y’know, obvious reasons, but for Wyatt’s heart. His stupid, busted up heart.

He rubbed Flynn’s back as Flynn slowly got his breathing under control. The temptation to do something stupid like press a kiss into Flynn’s hair was awful, and Wyatt just hoped that Flynn wouldn’t notice the frantic beating of Wyatt’s heart in his chest.

At last—after minutes or hours, Wyatt didn’t know—Flynn pulled away. Just a little, just enough that Wyatt could see his face, the red-rimmed eyes, the two spots of color high on his cheeks. Flynn stared at Wyatt’s chest, but his eyes were unfocused, unseeing.

“Surrogacy’s an option,” Flynn rasped. “I just don’t want her to blame herself anymore. Maybe get her to a therapist.”

“I think Denise and Michelle had some problems when Michelle was trying to get pregnant. They might be worth talking to.”

Flynn nodded. His hand wrapped around the back of Wyatt’s neck, his thumb swiping back and forth slowly across Wyatt’s skin. “Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s the least I can do. You guys will get through this. Nobody deserves to be parents more than you guys.”

“You do a pretty good job yourself,” Flynn pointed out.

Wyatt shrugged. “I try. Jess is the better parent. I’m shit at discipline. Scared I’ll be like my dad.”

“You love Joy, and you spend time with her. That’s what matters.”

Wyatt nodded. “Is there anything I can do for you guys? Want me to… I don’t know, order a pizza or something?”

Flynn snorted in amusement, his eyes focusing in and he looked up at Wyatt’s face. “Thanks, but no. I think… I think we just need some time, the two of us.”

“I get that.”

“Thank you, again.” Flynn’s thumb was still stroking back and forth and Wyatt was about to claw his own skin off with how much he wanted do to something reckless and stupid like kiss the tear tracks on Flynn’s face. “I’m glad you’re a safe space for Lucy.”

“She loves you,” Wyatt managed, his voice practically a croak.

“I know. I’m not doubting that. But nobody can have just one person in their lives. We need more—sometimes that means polyamory but usually that means friends, family.”

That was a baseball from left field. “Sorry, poly…?”

“Oh.” Flynn made a face. “Sorry, that’s where you’re romantically involved with more than one person.”

“Isn’t that where a guy marries a bunch of women? Don’t Mormons do that?”

“That’s polygamy.”

“Oh.”

So that was what he was. Polyamorous. For Lucy and Flynn.

It felt nice to put a name to it, he supposed. Although it also made it more real, to give it an official label.

Flynn sighed, tipping his head forward to rest it against Wyatt’s chest again. “You’d think it would be easier to navigate all this the second time around,” he mumbled.

“I think you’re doing just fine.”

Flynn pulled back. “Thank you, Wyatt. Really.”

Wyatt ignored the lump in his throat. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Flynn was staring up into his face with soft, dark eyes, and Wyatt wanted nothing more than to kiss him, to slide into bed with him and Lucy, to help hold them, to help them hold each other, to make them breakfast (okay maybe order breakfast since he was a terrible cook) so they didn’t have to worry about it…

Flynn’s hand moved from the back of Wyatt’s neck to his cheek, cupping Wyatt’s face. “I’ll tell you how Lucy’s doing in the morning.”

Wyatt nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let me know.”

He managed to get to his feet without looking too much like a flailing idiot. Flynn stood up after him, looking exhausted, and fuck, Wyatt was so in love with him. Him and Lucy both.

“I’ll show myself out,” he said, surprising himself with how soft his voice was.

Flynn looked at him for a moment, like he was searching Wyatt’s face for something, then nodded. “We’ll see you soon.”

Wyatt let himself out.

But he didn’t go home.

 

 

* * *

 

Flynn ignored the pull in his gut that told him to keep seeking comfort from Wyatt, that told him to kiss Wyatt, softly, and bring Wyatt upstairs to bed. Of all times, this wasn’t it. Not when Lucy was in such a state.

He went upstairs, changed into pajamas, and crawled into bed. Lucy made a soft noise and turned as he pulled her into his arms, one of her hands sleepily getting a handful of his shirt while she curled into his chest, one of her legs sliding between his, her cold toes between his knees.

“Hey, beautiful, it’s me,” he murmured, petting her hair. “You’re safe.”

They’d find a way through this. Adoption or surrogacy, they’d find a way. It hurt him, of course it hurt him, to know that Lucy had in fact been pregnant, that they’d started to have a child only for her body to reject the pregnancy only weeks later, to reject their hope. It felt like the cruelest of jokes.

But he would be fine. He worried more about Lucy, about how she was handling things. He’d call Denise tomorrow, see what her thoughts were on the matter.

For now he held his wife—his amazing wife, his soulmate, his savior—and stared into the darkness, ready for whenever she needed him.

 

* * *

 

To say Rufus looked surprised when he opened the door to find Wyatt standing there would be an understatement. “Buddy? Do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah, like midnight, I know, I’m sorry.” Wyatt shifted his weight back and forth. “Can I come in?”

Rufus nodded, opening the door for Wyatt to enter.

Jiya was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, putting on a robe. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just—I had to talk to someone.”

“Okay.” Rufus and Jiya glanced at each other, a whole conversation taking place in that one second look between them. “You want coffee?”

“Nah, no, I mean, I’m…” Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “I just, I needed to—I can’t keep it in anymore. I gotta tell someone.”

Jiya drifted over to the big armchair, curling up in it. Rufus gestured for Wyatt to sit on the couch. Wyatt did so, Rufus sitting on his other side. “What do you have to tell someone?” Rufus asked.

Wyatt felt like he was being strangled, like there was a boulder in his throat and he couldn’t dislodge it. “I’m in love with Lucy and Flynn.”

He felt horrible and wonderful at the same time. He was free, the secret was out, but he was trapped, because now it was real and now two other people knew.

Rufus let out a slow breath. “Yeah, uh, not to say duh or anything but… I know.”

Wyatt looked up at him. “You know?”

Rufus gave him a wry smile. “I’ve known since Flynn took that bullet for me in Berlin.”

God, that had been a fucking nightmare. Flynn bleeding out, red all over his shirt, all over Wyatt’s hands, and the idiot had still been mumbling all about how he had to get to Lucy, he couldn’t miss their appointment, while his life had been fucking leaking out between Wyatt’s fingers and Wyatt had done his best to keep Flynn upright, to drag him to the medbay, to dig that goddamn bullet out and keep Flynn breathing—

His hands had been shaking all night. He hadn’t slept for days. When he had snatched some sleep, he’d just had nightmares, nightmares about Flynn cold and heavy, about blood dripping into his face, about having to show up to Flynn’s appointment to tell Lucy—

Wyatt drew in a shaky breath. It was all right. Flynn was alive. He was okay. Their days of getting shot at were over.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” he asked.

Rufus shrugged. “I don’t know if anyone else picked up on it. But I’ve seen you in love. I knew what to look for.”

“And you were a wreck,” Jiya said. “You were jittery and the circles under your eyes were bigger than your actual eyes.”

“Thanks, Jiya.”

Rufus put his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. “Did you not know? Is this a… new thing? For you?”

Wyatt shook his head. “I’ve known for years.” He laughed roughly, hollowly. “I’ve been—I thought I was used to it. But they need me, y’know? They see me as a friend and I feel like such shit… tonight Lucy was upset and she came to me for help because she didn’t know how to tell Flynn something and she came to me, she came to me and I feel like—God like I’m lying to them but if I tell them that won’t help them, it’ll be about me if I tell them and I’m just… fuck I don’t know what to do.”

Jiya walked over to Wyatt’s other side and sat down, taking his hand. “It sucks.”

“I mean, are you sure they wouldn’t be into that?” Rufus asked. “They’re into BDSM…”

“BDSM doesn’t equal sexual promiscuity or wanting multiple partners,” Jiya pointed out. She looked at Wyatt. “Are you even into that?”

“Um…”

Rufus pointed at Wyatt’s face, which was undoubtedly pink now. “Of course he is.” He looked at Wyatt. “You should have seen your face when we were in England and went to that one place. I could’ve fried an egg on your face.”

“The Victorians were fucking kinky, man. How come you weren’t all freaking out?”

“Because what could be hotter than Victorian bondage,” Rufus said, deadpan.

“We’re getting away from the point here,” Jiya said. “Wyatt, is this why you were asking questions about dildos and stuff the other day?”

Wyatt nodded. “I wanted to… y’know.”

Fortunately, neither Rufus nor Jiya pushed. “It’s okay,” Rufus said. “I think… I think you should tell them.”

“Why? So I can ruin our friendship? They’re going through a lot right now, man, I’m not going to burden them with my feelings.”

“It’s your choice,” Rufus said. “But I’d like to point out what happened the last time you waited too long to take my advice and tell someone who you felt.”

“Worst moment ever to confess,” Jiya said solemnly.

“Neither of you were even there for that.”

“The point stands.”

Wyatt shook his head. “After all the shit I put Lucy through? You really think she’d be happy to hear, oh yeah, um, after I didn’t choose you, after I went through all that shit with Jess right in front of you and was a dick to Flynn and, oh yeah, judged all of your life choices and picked the worst moment to confess to you how I felt, surprise! I still love you! After you’ve been married to someone else for two years! Oh, and the best part, I’m in love with him too, even though I was a dick to him for like the first two years I knew him. Funny, right?”

“Maybe don’t say it like that,” Jiya said.

“I’m not doing that to them.” Wyatt was firm on that. “I just wanted to tell someone, somebody else had to know before I lost my damn mind.”

“Fair enough,” Rufus said. “You can talk to us about it at any time.”

“It’s okay to feel this way,” Jiya added. “You’re right, it’s not okay to force your feelings onto anyone but it doesn’t mean your feelings themselves aren’t valid. You’re allowed to feel whatever you want.”

Wyatt nodded. “I should… Jess will be worried. But. I just had to say something. To someone.”

Rufus put his hand on Wyatt’s back. “We’re here for you, buddy. Promise. Even if you want to cry.”

Wyatt’s laugh was wet and raw. “Yeah, I might do some of that, if that’s okay.”

Jiya hugged him from the side, so he did. Just a little. Just enough to let some of the pressure out.

Just enough so he could keep on pretending the rest of the time.


	6. Chapter 6

It took about two weeks for Lucy to get back up to her normal self. Wyatt had told the others to leave Lucy and Flynn to themselves, which Flynn appreciated. He had Stacy take care of things at the office, and graded Lucy’s papers for her—he’d read enough of them and helped her through midterms enough times that he could check for things like grammar and plagiarism—although Lucy insisted on going to her classes like usual.

He figured it was good. It gave her something to do.

They didn’t really have sex those two weeks. They spent a lot more time physically touching, but not actual intercourse. They showered and Flynn washed her hair, slowly, taking his time, massaging her shoulders. Lucy sat on his lap while they read books, and in her sleep she didn’t drift away from him. Not that she often drifted away, or at least not completely, but usually they’d end up in a different position than the one they’d started out in. Not these two weeks, though. Lucy would cling to him, and stay clinging to him, her face tucked under his chin and her lips pressed to his chest all night, as if even in her dreams she couldn’t bear to let him go.

Slowly, though, she grew more relaxed.

Lucy could be away from him, she stopped crying as much, and she was able to focus on her classwork better. Flynn dared to go back to work for a few hours at the end of the two weeks, and Lucy didn’t once text or call him in a panic. They were able to establish a healthy distance, to function as two people who shared a life rather than one entity.

It gave Flynn a huge relief. Lucy had strayed close to the deep end with this, and he had been terrified, paralyzed with fear that she was drowning and he couldn’t help her, couldn’t convince her that she wasn’t failing, that he loved her all the same, that they could still build a family, that none of this was her fault.

They had a lot of talks about their options. If Lucy wanted therapy, either alone or with Flynn. Whether they wanted adoption or to find a surrogate.

Eventually, they decided on a surrogate. Lucy wanted a child that was his in blood, and he wanted a child that was hers in blood.

“If we want another one afterwards,” Lucy said, “we’ll adopt. But my eggs are still good, that’s not the problem, so…”

Flynn nodded. Yes. That sounded like a good plan to him. “Then we’ll do surrogacy.”

Lucy’s smile was blinding, especially when he took her hand, kissing the knuckles.

He’d been terrified he wouldn’t see that smile again. It was like a defibrillator, getting his heart beating normally once more.

Lucy being relatively back to normal, though, didn’t prepare him for coming home one day to call for Lucy and to hear, “I’m in the bedroom” in that one particular tone of voice that meant _playtime_.

Flynn paused. Took off his jacket and shoes. Then walked upstairs.

Lucy was wearing that red teddy he loved so much, her hair curling around her shoulders, her makeup sharp and dramatic.

Flynn’s stomach went hot and tight. “Ma’am.”

Lucy smirked at him. “I realized that… that lately when we’ve fucked I’ve been thinking about getting pregnant. And sex isn’t just about that. It’s about us connecting, and being together, and having fun. So I wanted to bring that back. And have fun.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “Well, you don’t hear me complaining.”

“No, I don’t,” Lucy replied. “And that’s because you’re going to be good for me and get those clothes off.”

Flynn did as he was told, noticing that there were a couple things lying on the bed: the silk ties they’d bought, his favorite vibrator, and a cock ring.

He shivered, heat spreading through him. Oh, yes, Lucy had plans.

All arousal aside—and holy hell, was he turned on—it was a good sign. Lucy couldn’t plan scenes, couldn’t get into the domme mindset, when she was in a bad mental place. The casual confidence he saw in her now was a huge sign that she was doing so much better.

Flynn got into position on the bed, letting Lucy tie his wrists and ankles, testing the hold when she asked and reaffirming the safe word. No matter how many times they did this, they always tested the safe word, like a flight attendant going over the safety procedures before every flight to let the passengers know how to put on their oxygen masks.

Lucy kissed him, deep and slow, running her hand up and down his chest, her nails scratching just a little. “You all good, handsome?” she asked, her voice soft and teasing.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ll be good for me today?”

Flynn didn’t really get bratty. He highly suspected that Wyatt would, and the idea of showing a bratty Wyatt how to behave sent a violent shiver of heat up his spine, but Flynn didn’t get that way personally. He just got sassy, mouthing off, giving his color commentary until Lucy punished him for it.

Which he did love. Lucy thought up some very good punishments.

But not today. Today, he wanted to be good, wanted to please her, especially because of how the last two weeks had gone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he rasped, not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.

Lucy purred, stroking his cock slowly, toying with the foreskin, rubbing her thumb over the slit. Flynn had already been pretty damn hard already but that sure did the trick to take him the rest of the way, forcing himself to relax and not tug on the restraints as his hips instinctively thrust up into her hand.

“You’re my toy today,” Lucy reminded him, sliding the cock ring on. “I use my toys, I do the work, not the other way around.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jesus Christ his skin felt like it was on fire from her words.

Lucy massaged his thighs, then grabbed the lube and the vibrator, slicking up both the toy and her fingers. “You’re going to beg me by the time we’re through,” she assured him.

Flynn tried not to clench his jaw on instinct. He was a pretty stubborn man but he’d learned that when it came to this, Lucy was even more stubborn. If she said he’d be begging, then he definitely would be.

And he wanted, needed, to get to a place where he was begging, needed to get into that headspace, just like Lucy needed to get into a space where she had him begging for her, had him at her mercy, had him putting all of his body and his trust in her hands.

Lucy kissed along the ridge of his hipbone, the trail of hair that ran down from his naval to his stomach, sucking a bruise into his upper thigh as she slowly circled her fingers around, massaging, catching on the rim only occasionally until Flynn was struggling not to push into it. She didn’t fuck him too much—Lucy would be the first one to admit she was a size queen and liked him filling her up, fucking her hard—but when she did, she made a real production of it.

Not that Flynn minded.

She sucked the tip of him into her mouth, her tongue circling the head, as she slipped two slick fingers into him. He remembered what she’d said a few weeks ago—that Flynn was used to this, but Wyatt wouldn’t be, that Wyatt would be tight and overly sensitive and shivering under their touch, that maybe they should take turns fucking him so that he got properly used to being open and loose and slick like that.

God, he wanted that, he wanted to see that, feel that, so damn badly.

Lucy curled her fingers just so, scissoring them, spreading him open. Flynn groaned, his chest heaving as he inhaled sharply, sparks going off just under his skin, behind his eyes.

Lucy stroked that spot a little more. Flynn had to struggle not to shove himself down onto her fingers. It was so good, so, so good, they could do this every day and he’d never fully get used to it, never be prepared for the shot of pleasure up his spine.

When Lucy pulled her fingers out he had only a moment to feel the loss before she was working the vibrator in. She made sure it was nice and set, and then—far sooner than he’d expected—she turned in on.

Flynn jolted, a shout escaping. Lucy usually left the vibrator in a little longer, letting him get used to it, until he nearly forgot about it, before turning it on and surprising him. But she was always finding ways to keep him on his toes and now he was a twitching mess, the vibrations rocking through his entire body, leaving him shivering and biting down on the inside of his cheek.

Lucy hitched her teddy up, crawling over his body, leaving a trail of none-too-gentle bite marks up his chest. Her hair trailed along, tickling, teasing, her hands securing themselves in the rails of the headboard as she settled astride his shoulders.

“You’re going to lick me until I come,” she ordered, her voice soft but unyielding. “And then you’re going to keep licking me until I tell you to stop. If that means I want to come three times, or ten, that’s my business. Afterwards, if you were good, I’ll let you beg me to let you come.”

“And if I’m not good?” Flynn asked. Not that he planned on disobeying, but he liked to know the rules.

“Then I leave that pretty little toy up your ass and that ring on your cock and I see about having a shower and some dinner,” Lucy replied. “And you can stay here another hour or so and think about what you did.”

She had done that to him, once, after he’d requested it. Lucy hadn’t actually liked the idea of leaving him unsupervised, and she’d blindfolded him but he highly suspected she’d actually just been in the room the whole time to make sure nothing went wrong. That was fine. It was the feeling of being left that had mattered. The fantasy of it.

That was something so many people didn’t understand about BDSM. The fantasies half the time—they were just fantasies. Some things weren’t actually done, the dom just worked to give the sub the impression that they were being done to them. There were some things Lucy had whispered to him while fucking him that they never would carry out in real life, simply because of safety concerns, or logistics, or how much damn work it would be. But it was fun, and so very hot, to hear her whisper those things to him. Or vice versa, where he would whisper those things to her.

“Understand the consequences?” Lucy asked him, jolting him into the present. That was another thing he loved about this—it kept him firmly in the moment, not overthinking, not worrying about the past or the future. Just this, right now, what she was guiding him into experiencing.

“Yes, ma’am,” Flynn replied.

Lucy settled herself so that he could get his mouth on her. “Then get to work.”

It was damn hard—no pun intended—to eat her out, or to do anything, really, including breathing, while that vibrator was working inside of him. It was pressed right against his prostate, because Lucy was a cruel, cruel woman, and it felt so fucking good that Flynn was tempted just to lose his mind and writhe on it like he was being paid. But he was being good for her and he wanted this to feel good for Lucy, wanted to make her come, so he focused in and did as he was told, licking into her, toying with her clit, twisting his tongue in and out of her and sliding it through her folds.

This was another thing Wyatt wouldn’t be able to do right away. Eating Lucy out—or blowing Flynn—while being tied up? Sure. But doing that while having a vibrator inside him, sending pleasure zinging through his body like a comet across the night sky—that took discipline, that took training.

Flynn couldn’t wait to train Wyatt. To work him into an experienced sub, coax him into things like this.

It was going to be so very satisfying.

And who better to train Wyatt than Flynn? Someone who was also a sub, who knew how to be good, how to follow orders like this?

Really, Wyatt couldn’t be in better hands than Flynn and Lucy’s.

But that was for later. Right now… right now he was eating Lucy, and he really did love doing that. He loved the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she grew slippery-slick in his mouth, the way her thighs tightened around him, the little whining sounds she tried to hide but couldn’t help making. Lucy’s hands flew to his hair at one point, tugging viciously, and Flynn groaned against her folds, his whole body jerking. It was hard, so hard not to just give into the sensations, the need to come, and he did want to come so badly. It turned him on like nothing else, getting to do this to her, and that plus the goddamn vibrator—he was so close, so fucking close, but the goddamn ring wouldn’t let him, kept stopping him short—

Lucy came the first time with a shudder, her hips working into his mouth without thought, and he just kept at it, waiting for her to tell him to stop. She didn’t, though, just continued to grind into his mouth and so he continued, scraping his teeth a little to give her that mix of pleasure-plain she loved, sucking at her clit, flicking his tongue against it, diving into her as deep as he could go until Lucy cried out and came a second time.

“One more,” she gasped out, her hips twisting without thought. “One—one more—come on—oh God so so good yes just like that—”

He could feel the sweat all over his body, could taste it against her skin when he pulled back a little to bite and suck at her thighs, her stomach. The taste of her was all in his mouth, her slick was all over his face, his legs were jerking as he was kept on that fucking edge, his entire body buzzing with it, they were both messes and he didn’t care, he really, really didn’t care.

There was nothing but the sensations. Nothing. And that was what he was always searching for.

Flynn sucked hard at her clit, biting down slightly, and Lucy came a third time, moaning his name.

She pulled back and Flynn tested his tongue. It was feeling a little numb, honestly. “Very good,” she purred, the effect only slightly ruined by how breathless she was. She slid back down his body and licked at his cock.

Flynn just about screamed. Lucy smirked. “Ready to beg me now? Ready to ask me to let you come?”

He nodded frantically. His whole body was on fire.

“Then do it.” Lucy lightly trailed a finger up the underside of his cock and Flynn saw stars. “Beg for it.”

“ _Please_.” The word was nearly ripped out of him. “Lucy, please, please ma’am, please, let me—I’ll—I’ll do anything, I’ve been good please mistress please, please—”

He kept at it, over and over again, as Lucy idly mouthed at his cock, occasionally adjusted the vibrator. He felt like a bundle of raw nerves, like he’d been hooked up to an electric chair except this was all pleasure, no pain, and he wanted that final high, the last jolt, dear God _please_ …

Lucy nodded at last, satisfied. “Since you were so good,” she said, sliding off the cock ring.

She didn’t even have to do anything else. Flynn came like a shot—he was pretty sure he blacked out for a second—and his body twisted and jerked like he really was being electrocuted. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes and forget the usual damp patch, he’d soaked the whole bed in his sweat.

And then he was just floating. Blissfully, completely floating.

Lucy petted and praised him as he slowly came down from the high, telling him how good he’d been for her, how much she’d liked that. “I missed this,” she admitted, getting a damp cloth and wiping his face off with it. “You were amazing for me. That felt so good, you did so good.”

“Missed this too,” he managed to mumble. His tongue was actually numb. He was going to have a goddamn lisp for an hour or so.

Lucy kissed him softly, over and over, on his lips, his forehead, his jaw, his cheek. Flynn started to drift, to fall asleep, but he could feel Lucy undoing the ties, going into the bathroom to get supplies to clean up.

When he woke up hours later, it was to Lucy in his arms, her head on his chest, the most content of smiles on her face.

Flynn smiled down at her, toying with her hair. He loved her more than words.

He didn’t want to wake her, but they had to attend the opening of Jess’s bar that night. “Lucy, my love, time to wake up.”

Lucy stirred slowly, opening her eyes, her vision slowly coming into focus on his face.

Her smile was—it was radiant. It was everything.

“I love when you call me that,” she whispered.

“My love?”

She nodded. Reached up. Touched her fingertips to his lips. “Say it again?”

As many times as she wanted. “My love.”

Lucy kissed his chest, never breaking eye contact. “ _My_ love,” she replied.

Flynn could literally feel his heart swelling.

 

* * *

 

Lucy held Flynn’s hand tightly as they entered the bar. _J’s_ , as Jess’s bar had been named, had gotten a hell of a lot of good publicity thanks to Amy’s determined work, and it was pretty packed on its opening night.

“There they are,” Flynn murmured, pointing towards a large back booth.

Rufus, Jiya, Stacy, and Amy were all crowded into the booth. Stacy was gesturing wildly and Rufus was laughing so hard he looked like he was in danger of falling off his seat while Jiya and Amy were counting out quarters, presumably for the jukebox.

Lucy took a deep breath. This was the first time they’d see the others since her breakdown. Wyatt had been kind enough to tell everyone to keep their distance, which they’d needed, but it also meant that everyone would want to know why.

And she was scared about telling them.

“Hey!”

Lucy turned and saw Wyatt working his way through the crowd to them. “It’s fuckin’ good to see you two out of the house,” he said.

Flynn wrapped an arm around Wyatt’s waist and pulled him into a hug. Wyatt made a startled noise, but wrapped an arm around Flynn’s shoulders in return. Lucy saw Flynn turned his face, pressing it against Wyatt’s temple, and knew he was restraining himself from kissing Wyatt there. “Thank you,” Flynn murmured.

Watching Flynn be so soft with Wyatt melted her heart. Benefits to polyamory: getting to watch your two loved ones be adorable and romantic with each other.

She couldn’t wait to see how it got once Wyatt was officially brought into it.

Wyatt pulled back, blushing and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, it was the least I could do.” He looked at her. “How are you, Luce?”

She wrapped her free arm around Wyatt’s neck, still holding onto Flynn’s hand with the other. “You were wonderful,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

Then she pulled back. “I’m doing okay,” she promised. “We… we plan to tell the others tonight. Jiya and Rufus need to know for their own plans. And we’re… we’re going to get a surrogate.”

Wyatt burst out in a breathless grin. “That’s—that’s really great. I’m sure you’ll find someone. You two will be amazing parents.”

Lucy felt tears pricking her eyes. His faith, the _you will be_ … it meant more than she could say. How different he was from the lost, struggling, angry man who’d hurt her. She was so glad for it.

“Shall we?” Flynn asked, indicating the back booth.

Wyatt led the way, surreptitiously keeping her from getting bumped while Flynn guarded her from behind. When Wyatt slid into the booth, she slid in right after, putting herself in the middle as Flynn moved in and put his arm around her shoulders—and almost but not quite around Wyatt’s.

Flynn had long arms. It was about time he took advantage of them.

Lucy snuggled into Flynn’s side and propped her feet up on Wyatt’s lap. Wyatt idly dropped a hand onto her ankle, like he didn’t even think about it.

Her heart warmed. Oh, it was going to be so easy to convince him to join them. The time was so close, she could taste it.

“Hey, it’s the hermits!” Jiya said.

“She’s had a few shots,” Rufus apologized.

“It’s a fair title,” Flynn said. “Not to take away from Jess’s big day but we wanted to tell you why we sort of went radio silent.”

“My favorite idiots!” Jess ran up, hugging Rufus, squeezing Wyatt’s hand, and ruffling Amy’s hair. Was it just Lucy’s imagination, or did Jess’s hand trail down Amy’s cheek? “How are you enjoying yourselves?”

“The booze is amazing,” Jiya intoned seriously.

“I love the pool tables,” Stacy said.

“Actually, Jess, could you stay for a second?” Flynn asked. “I know this is your big night and we hate to spring it on you but we wanted to let everyone know why we sort of disappeared for a couple weeks.”

Jess, Lucy recalled, had been there when she’d stumbled to Wyatt’s apartment and sobbed herself into hyperventilation. She barely remembered that night, which was a sign of how bad the panic attack had been.

Jess nodded, scooting in to sit next to Rufus. “What’s up?”

Flynn kissed Lucy’s hair. She took a deep breath. “We got tested by Mason. About why we couldn’t get pregnant. Flynn’s fine, and my eggs are actually fine, but it’s…” Another deep breath. “It’s my uterus. My body—because of the time travel, it did something… Mason could explain it better. But basically my body rejects the fetus a few weeks after conception.”

“A few weeks,” Wyatt said carefully. “After…”

Amy put her hand over her mouth and Stacy’s eyes went wide.

“I’ve had three miscarriages.” Lucy had to force the words out through a whisper, her throat tight. “Jiya, you—you’re probably in the same situation. Jess, too, if you ever want more kids, Joy was before you time traveled but you’ve done it since…”

Jess nodded, her face a little pale.

“We already planned to adopt,” Rufus said carefully. “But this is… um. Wow. Yeah.”

“Lucy.” Amy reached across Wyatt, grabbing Lucy’s hand. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Lucy squeezed her sister’s hand. “I know. It’s not your fault, or anyone’s fault. Nobody even thought about that.”

“What do you plan?” Rufus asked. “Not to, ah, poke at a sore subject.”

“We’re going to look into surrogacy,” Flynn said. “There are agencies that help pair you with women…”

“Or you could ask someone you know and trust,” Amy said.

“I love you two, but no,” Stacy said, taking a drink.

Amy rolled her eyes. “I meant me.”

Lucy’s stomach dropped out. “Ames?”

Amy nodded, squeezing Lucy’s hand. “I mean it. You—you fought across time for me, Lucy, you brought me back from literal non-existence. Let me do this for you. I haven’t time traveled. My uterus is fine.”

“You’ll need someone to look after you,” Flynn said. “You could move into our place…”

“Actually, if, uh, if someone’s willing to take on that extra caretaker role… I’ve already been thinking about moving in with someone.”

Lucy frowned. “You’re seeing someone?”

Amy’s face went red. “Yeah, actually. Um.”

She looked over at Jess and reached out her hand. Jess reached back, squeezing tightly, and the look on her face as she gazed at Amy made Lucy’s breath catch.

Amy looked back at Lucy. “I’m sorry I haven’t said anything. We’ve been really keeping it quiet. We spent so much time together, putting the bar up and getting it running and all those late nights and…” Amy shrugged, her eyes shining. “One night we were going over forms and getting drunk because we were bored and it was dull and I couldn’t help myself and I kissed her. And she—she kissed back.”

Jess looked adoringly at Amy, like she still couldn’t believe Amy had actually done that, had chosen her, after all the shit Jess had done in her life.

Lucy was a bit hurt. She and Amy had once shared every secret. But then, she hadn’t told Amy about her and Flynn’s plans for Wyatt. And she could understand the desire to keep something new and fragile a secret, to wait for the plant to grow stronger, dig deep roots, before exposing it to the world.

“I’m happy for you,” she said. “Really, I am.”

“I feel sorry for you,” Rufus said. “Moving in to share an apartment with Wyatt? Must be true love.”

Wyatt flipped him off. “I’m a delight to live with.”

“So long as you don’t ask him to cook anything,” Jess said.

Lucy looked up at Flynn. Flynn looked back at her.

She could practically read his thoughts.

_Should we…?_

_We have to get him on board with the relationship first. Then ask him to move in._

_But it is something you want._

_…yes._

Lucy looked back at Amy. “I’m so glad, Amy. And if you want, if you’re sure—take time to think it over—then yes, we’d love for you to be our surrogate.” It was better than she could’ve hoped for.

Amy pushed herself across the table to hug Lucy, and kiss Flynn on the cheek. “I’m sure,” she promised, awkwardly using Wyatt as leverage to sit back down.

“I’m furniture,” Wyatt mock complained.

“Then if you’re sure we can… set up an appointment, go to a doctor, start looking into how it all works,” Flynn said slowly.

Lucy’s heart felt like it was going to soar right out of her mouth.

Jess grabbed a drink. “To Flynn and Lucy having a baby!”

Stacy whooped. “You better have me over for dinner soon you two, you won’t have time before long!”

Everyone clinked their glasses and Lucy just about sagged in relief, nearly bursting into tears for the hundredth time in two weeks.

They were going to have a baby.

_They were going to have a baby._

 

* * *

 

Wyatt leaned back as Lucy and Amy had another sister bonding moment. “Okay, okay you two, y’know what? Flynn, help me.”

Flynn got his meaning and helped him to lift Lucy up and over Wyatt’s lap, changing the arranged seating so that Wyatt was next to Flynn, and Lucy could be next to Amy.

“She looks happy,” Wyatt noted under his breath.

Flynn draped his arm over Wyatt’s shoulders so that he could keep his arm around Lucy’s as well. Lucy grabbed Flynn’s hand, probably without even thinking about it, and intertwined their fingers.

Wyatt was such a goddamn idiot, but he was stupidly in love with their love.

Of course, Flynn arm was still across his shoulders, and Wyatt had to deal with that, and with Flynn’s dark, leather and whiskey smell filling his nostrils, and Flynn’s body pressed up against his side.

It was a good thing the bar was dark enough to hide his blush.

“She is,” Flynn whispered, his mouth right by Wyatt’s ear. “We had a lot of quiet time together, a lot of talking. Got back onto solid ground.”

“I’m happy for you guys.” Wyatt glanced over at Flynn, who was reaching up to take a drink—and noticed the sleeve of Flynn’s jacket sliding down, exposing his wrist.

His red wrist, red like there’d been some kind of rope or tie around it, holding him, tying him down…

Wyatt’s mouth went dry and he swallowed reflexively.

Flynn paused in drinking, his gaze catching Wyatt’s, and then he followed Wyatt’s line of sight. He smirked, putting down his glass. “Curious?”

Wyatt was pretty sure you could’ve fried an egg on his face. “I…”

“It’s okay if you are,” Flynn said, his voice low and soothing, smooth like rich caramel. “All you have to do is ask.”

That seemed to imply so many other things that Wyatt could learn, could know, could _do_ , if he only asked. He forced himself to swallow a few times, trying to get his tongue to stop sticking to the roof of his mouth. “Did… did Lucy…”

“Tie me up?” The corner of Flynn’s mouth curled upwards. “Yes.”

“And you like that.”

Flynn leaned in, his mouth brushing against Wyatt’s ear. Wyatt could feel his pants starting to get tight and he had to force himself not to squirm. “A lot.”

He managed to exhale shakily. “So you two… you don’t… it wasn’t just for the club. Or for her job. It’s something you do regularly.”

“Not every time, because that would get exhausting.” Flynn’s mouth was still right at Wyatt’s ear and Wyatt’s cock was swelling and dear God he had to get away before he did something phenomenally stupid—or before Flynn looked down and saw what was going on between Wyatt’s legs. “But regularly. You should try it sometime. I think…” Flynn pulled his hand away from Lucy’s so that it fell onto Wyatt’s shoulder, his thumb dragging along the ridge of it, digging into the seam of Wyatt’s shirt. “…you would like it.”

The thing was, Wyatt knew that Flynn had been submissive to Lucy in their undercover work. So why would he want to drag Wyatt into that? To have another submissive to talk to about these kinds of things? But that didn’t match the purring, dominating energy he was getting from Flynn right now, the proprietary curve of Flynn’s arm around his shoulders, the knowing, _owning_ tone in Flynn’s voice.

Was Flynn being dominant with him? But why, if he was submissive to Lucy?

Of course, this was assuming Flynn actually wanted him at all, which was a pretty damn big stretch.

Wyatt had to get out of here.

“We’re playing pool!” Jiya announced, pushing Rufus insistently out of the booth. “Me versus Amy, first round!”

“Winner plays Flynn!” Amy said, crawling out after Stacy. “C’mon!”

Flynn and Wyatt got out and stood up to let Lucy out of the booth. She trailed her hand down Wyatt’s chest as she passed him and Wyatt nearly had an aneurysm. That was—it was casual but sexual, that wasn’t—friends didn’t just do that to other friends…

Lucy wrapped her hand around the back of Flynn’s neck and kissed him. “I’ll see you two in a minute.”

She walked off to join the others, and Wyatt saw his chance. His chance to ostensibly hit the bathroom but in reality to just stand there in a stall and try not to have a panic attack while his goddamn halfer went down.

“I’ll be back,” he managed, his voice strangled, as he pushed past Flynn.

Except… Flynn followed him. He caught Wyatt’s wrist just outside the restrooms, in the dark hallway that led to them.

“If you think you can just run away, Wyatt,” Flynn told him, his voice soft but brooking no argument, “You’re sorely mistaken.”

Wyatt swallowed hard.

He was so fucked.

 

* * *

 

Flynn let go of Wyatt’s wrist. Wyatt was wide-eyed, looking terrified. Probably because he thought Flynn would be angry over the fact that Flynn could see a small tent in Wyatt’s pants.

If only Wyatt knew it just made Flynn’s mouth water.

“You’re curious,” Flynn said. “About my sex life with Lucy. About the dominance and the submission. BDSM.”

Wyatt looked for a moment like he might lie, but then his cheeks went pink and he nodded, his hands shoved into his pockets. “For a while, yeah, been wondering.”

“Why didn’t you ask us about it?”

“Because you’re my friends! I didn’t want to make it… make it weird.”

Flynn looked pointedly down at Wyatt’s crotch.

Wyatt looked like he was hoping for one of the people playing darts to randomly and lethally hit him with one of them. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Flynn tried to gentle his voice, his face, so that he didn’t spook Wyatt too badly. “What if I said we wanted you to ask?”

Wyatt’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Wh-why would you want that?”

“Because we’d rather you talked to us than scar yourself using the internet. And because I don’t think you’re walking funny right now just because of the rope tying.” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s because it’s me and Lucy, isn’t it?”

It was a risk, but a calculated one. Wyatt swallowed. “What if it was?”

“If it was… then I’d want to know what your questions were about BDSM. See the lay of the land.” You couldn’t get to the finish line if you didn’t know where the start was.

Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re kind of… you’re being really in charge with me right now.”

“Do you like it?”

Wyatt huffed out an embarrassed laugh, then dropped his hand. “…yes?”

Flynn’s breath rumbled in his chest. _Good_.

“But you’re—Lucy’s in charge with you.”

“It’s called being a switch. Some people are always wanting to dominate, like Lucy. Some people always want to submit.” There was a flicker of recognition in Wyatt’s eyes that had heat curling at the base of Flynn’s spine. “And then there are those who can go back and forth. It’s like being bi. Ninety percent dom and ten percent sub? You’re still a switch. Fifty-fifty? Still a switch. I like when I can play at being both. I like submitting to Lucy. I need to submit, sometimes. Scratches a pretty deep itch. But I also like… dominating the right person.”

Never as vehemently as he wanted to dominate Wyatt. That was new, and still scared him a little. He wanted Wyatt a gibbering wreck in his hands.

Wyatt looked like he wasn’t even breathing. “You do?”

“I very much do,” Flynn promised.

Wyatt was breathing now, definitely, but shallowly, quickly, the way Flynn knew he himself sometimes got when he was turned on.

Mmm, he wanted to push for more, to take and take and take, get greedy, feast.

But not yet. No, not just yet.

“I guess I’m just trying to understand,” Wyatt admitted. He shrugged, his shoulders hunching a little. “What the hell about it—the why of it, I don’t get.”

Flynn looked at him for a long moment. God, he wanted to wreck Wyatt. He wanted to turn him inside out and string him out and take him apart and put him back together and then ask him if he understood, then.

But Wyatt even admitting that he was curious about this was a huge step. Wyatt had known about Lucy and Flynn’s sex preferences for years, unfortunately—or perhaps not so unfortunately—thanks to the undercover assignment that had gotten Rittenhouse behind bars for good. And yet in all that time, only once had Wyatt mentioned BDSM. And that had only been to apologize to Flynn for any stereotypical assumptions.

Flynn took a deep, slow breath. “Do you not see the appeal, then?”

He knew Wyatt saw the appeal, he knew it, why else would Wyatt drop his gaze from Flynn’s and do as Flynn said when Flynn ordered him to eat more or be quiet or whatever the hell? Why else would Wyatt flush slightly and relax when Lucy told him to, took a deep breath when she told him to, following her orders with pink cheeks?

But Wyatt had to say it.

Wyatt inhaled sharply. “I think I do. I just don’t understand why.”

Flynn took a small step. Wyatt didn’t move. He took another, and this time Wyatt’s eyes went a little wide and he stepped back, jolting slightly when his back hit the wall.

“How do you feel?” Flynn asked, surprising himself with how low his voice was.

Wyatt’s brow furrowed a little and he blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I… not scared. But scared. But not like… I know you won’t hurt me.”

Flynn put his arms on the wall on either side of Wyatt’s head, bracing himself. “How about now?”

“Um…” Wyatt looked a little slack jawed. Flynn had always loved catching Wyatt off guard, since the beginning. He’d give a hell of a lot to see Wyatt even more off guard than this, to see his mouth falling open on a moan. “Like I’m going up the start of the big drop in a rollercoaster?”

Flynn used his hands to balance as he leaned in, slowly, until all it would take was an ill-timed shift of bodies and he’d be pressed up against Wyatt from toe to chest. “You want me to back away?”

Wyatt swallowed and Flynn swore he could see Wyatt’s pupils getting larger, the blue of his eyes like fire. Wyatt shook his head.

“Words, Wyatt,” he growled.

“No,” Wyatt said. His voice sounded like sandpaper. “No, I’m—I’m good.”

Flynn hummed, his gaze dropping down, slowly, taking in Wyatt’s heaving chest and the pulse fluttering in his neck, and then dragged his gaze back up again. “That adrenaline? That fear while still knowing you’re actually safe? That feeling of playing with fire? That’s why. It’s in our DNA to look for danger. To test ourselves. And most of us live cushy lives with cushy jobs that don’t give us that thrill so our brains start trying to find it other places. Places we can test ourselves. Where we can flirt with danger. The adrenaline… of anticipation, of being out of control, of not knowing… or on the other end, of finding a place where you’re totally in control, where you make the rules, where you are king—or queen—” He paused. “Can I touch you?”

Wyatt looked a little dazed. “Wha—yeah. Yeah, um, you can—yeah.”

Flynn pressed himself up against Wyatt, soaking in the heat of him, the way Wyatt’s body molded to his. Wyatt grabbed onto Flynn’s shoulders, his fingers bunching in the fabric of Flynn’s shirt.

He finally finished his sentence. “That’s why people like it.”

It was so fucking tempting to put his hands on Wyatt, so hard not to lean in and suck on Wyatt’s bottom lip, slide his tongue into Wyatt’s mouth. He could feel Wyatt’s chest vibrating against his as Wyatt breathed in fits and starts. “It’s the only place you can completely lose control and still feel safe, or completely take control without someone yanking it away from you. It’s the only place you can feel that fear without actually feeling like someone will hurt you. It’s why people watch scary movies, it’s why they go on roller coasters, it’s why they go into haunted houses.”

“But it’s sex.” Wyatt’s voice was hoarse.

“And that makes it so much more intimate, and difficult, and freeing…” Flynn shrugged, knowing Wyatt could feel the movement rippling through Flynn’s entire body. “And why it feels so damn good.”

Wyatt made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded so damn close to a whimper Flynn almost lost his mind completely. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt whispered. “I’m with you.”

“So then the next question is, why for you?” Flynn tilted his head, his nose just missing brushing against Wyatt’s. “Why do you want it?”

Wyatt’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He looked at a loss.

Flynn gave him a few moments. When Wyatt still didn’t say anything, his eyes just latched onto Flynn’s like he was drowning, Flynn prepared to do something else—to explain himself, and his needs, or to ask to touch Wyatt somewhere else, if he could put his hands on Wyatt’s hips or oh, fuck, if he could kiss him, he wanted to kiss him until Wyatt was a puddle…

“Flynn!”

Amy’s drunken yell cut through everything and Wyatt jumped. Fuck. Flynn had honestly forgotten where they were. Not even someone’s house, for Christ’s sake, but a goddamn bar, Jess’s bar, everyone else would never let them live it down if they were caught and Flynn was fine with that but Wyatt wouldn’t be, Wyatt who was so defensive and hadn’t told anyone he was bi—

Flynn stepped back. “Yeah?” he called. His eyes never left Wyatt’s face.

Wyatt had a flush creeping up his neck and he was staring determinedly at the ground, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists.

“It’s your turn at pool!” Amy yelled. “Get your stupid ass over here so I can kick it!”

“All right,” Flynn replied. He stepped in again, just a little. “You okay?”

Wyatt didn’t say anything.

Flynn decided to take a risk. He snapped his fingers in front of Wyatt’s face and put a little bit of a growl in his voice. “Answer me.”

“I’m—I’m okay,” Wyatt stuttered. “You should go,” he added in a mumble.

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I’m okay,” Wyatt repeated. He met Flynn’s gaze, although it looked like it was killing him to do so. “Really.”

Flynn nodded. He was hot all over from touching Wyatt. He wanted to dive right back into the fire, but not here, not now.

If he and Lucy were going to finally have this, they were going to get to do it when they could take proper time. When—and it was when, not if, he knew that now, he had gotten just the barest taste but he was never looking back, not until he had all of it, all of _Wyatt_ —it had to be in a place where they could take their time and explore, for all of their sakes.

Especially Wyatt’s, Wyatt who had no experience, not with a man and not with BDSM. They had to do this properly.

Flynn stepped away, leaving Wyatt to wrestle himself back into presentability, and swallowed down the burn in his chest, between his legs, in his throat, striding over to the group, to Amy at the pool table and taking the cue she offered him.

He felt Lucy’s gaze on him from the high top. He caught her eyes.

She arched one eyebrow, sipping her cocktail, her gaze flicking from the dark corridor where Wyatt remained, to Flynn, to Flynn’s crotch, back up to Flynn’s face.

The corner of Flynn’s mouth curled upwards, his hand tightening on the pool cue, and he nodded once, briefly.

Lucy’s smile was like the cat that had eaten a dozen canaries.

The hunt was officially on now.


	7. Chapter 7

Wyatt barely remembered the rest of the night at the bar, dizzy with the implications of what he’d been doing—had almost done—with Flynn.

Fuck, anyone could’ve seen them, a stranger or Rufus or Jess or—anyone.

What about Lucy?

He remembered the way her hand had trailed down his chest as she’d gotten out of the bar. That wasn’t—couldn’t be—just platonic. And Flynn would never… Flynn was hopelessly in love with Lucy, one hundred percent. He’d never cheat on her.

That meant she had to know, didn’t she?

Flynn hadn’t come right out and said that he wanted Wyatt but—but that wasn’t how you talked to someone about something, even something as intimate and sexual as BDSM, if you weren’t into them. Wyatt wasn’t quite so dumb as to miss all the cues that had been thrown at him in that dark hallway. He’d been so goddamn turned on he’d hardly been able to walk, and Flynn… Flynn had been looking at him like a starving wolf. It had made his fucking knees weak.

Pool was played, Wyatt remembered that, and neither Flynn nor Lucy went near him. But he could feel their eyes on him all night long, burning into him. What was their game? Wanting to offer him something and dangling it in front of him and then pulling it away to make him want it even more?

It wasn’t until the bar closed that they approached him again while everyone was saying goodbye and Jess was telling all of them to get out of her damn bar. Flynn grabbed Wyatt’s jacket before Wyatt could, holding it out so that Wyatt could slide it on. Lucy put her hands on his chest—and he was extremely aware that he was now in between them, Flynn at his back, the both of them close enough to touch.

Lucy’s hands slid slowly down his chest as she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and oh, God, he had to bite back a whimper.

“Why don’t you come by the house tomorrow afternoon?” she said softly. “I have lunch with Amy, so… after that. Garcia and I have something we want to discuss with you.”

Wyatt vaguely wondered if he hit his head and was in a coma while his brain conjured up a porno version of his life. “Okay,” he managed, his voice strangled.

Lucy smiled at him, and oh, he remembered that smile from Hollywood, right before she’d fucking tackled him. “Garcia?”

Flynn’s hand slid across the back of Wyatt’s shoulders, briefly gripping Wyatt’s neck before falling away to help Lucy into her coat. “Drive safely,” he said, the corner of his mouth turned upwards in a half smirk, like he was enjoying watching Lucy make Wyatt fall apart.

Then they were gone.

And Wyatt had to spend the rest of the night trying to remember what the fuck else had happened in the moments in between Flynn and Lucy sending his world into a tailspin.

 

* * *

 

Flynn sat on the couch, toying with the cell phone in his hand.

“I won’t be gone too long,” Lucy said, bracing her hand on his shoulder and softly kissing his temple. “I’ll tell Amy you said hi.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Lucy waved at him as she slipped out the front door, and Flynn went back to looking at the phone in his hand.

Amy had hurt Lucy by not telling her about Jess, but Lucy was getting over it fairly quickly. The two sisters were close, and they loved each other.

Flynn wasn’t sure he could say the same for himself and his brother.

He pulled up Gabriel Thompkins’ number on his phone. Gabriel lived in Paris, as an antiquities dealer. He’d majored in Art History in school. He’d had several long relationships but had never married, didn’t want kids.

And he had a completely different picture in his mind of how his childhood had gone from what Flynn remembered.

Flynn remembered watching as Asher took his frustrations out on Maria, his brilliant, beautiful mother. He remembered being four, five, six years old and not understanding, and then being seven, eight, nine and thinking that was how all dads were, and then being ten, eleven, twelve and boiling with anger, the anger that finally replaced the fear, waiting and working until he was big enough, strong enough, to hit Asher back.

When he was fourteen, he’d done it.

Asher had put the bottle aside and Flynn knew that gleam in his eye, and he’d gotten in between. He and Josip had been scrabbling in the schoolyard, in alleys, for years now and he knew how to fight, how to throw a punch.

He’d knocked Asher out cold and after that, Asher hadn’t so much as looked at Maria.

He’d died, about a year after that, and Flynn had been fifteen, and the war had been starting, and so he and Josip had signed up to fight for freedom.

That wasn’t what Gabriel remembered.

Gabriel remembered being fourteen when his little brother had been born, already suspicious of this charming man who’d swept his mom off her feet but busy with school and friends and teenage stuff. Gabriel remembered that Asher didn’t start hitting at first, that it was gradual, slowly exerting his control over Maria until the time Gabriel left for college, when Flynn was four—and that had been when the hitting had started.

Gabriel remembered coming home aged twenty for the first time in two years because it was expensive to travel home for every break. He remembered Maria doing her best to cover up what was happening. He remembered getting in Asher’s face while yelling at his mom to grab Garcia and pack the bags and _go_. He remembered his elbow in Asher’s windpipe and bundling his mother and six-year-old brother into the car and promising them they were never going back to that son of a bitch again.

He remembered he’d been ready to drop out of school but Maria had insisted he keep going. He remembered fights, and wondering why Maria hadn’t told him anything was wrong, why Garcia hadn’t told him, and he remembered Maria dying when Garcia was fifteen and Garcia signing up for the war and lying about his age as some way of coping and the fight that resulted from that and then he remembered barely speaking to Garcia until a beautiful woman named Lorena called him up, said she was Garcia’s fiancée, and that she was going to make the two of them talk if it killed her.

And Flynn had no idea how to feel about any of this.

In his timeline his mother had lived longer. Not too much longer. Whether it was the city she lived in, or the circumstances, or some small flap of a butterfly that Flynn couldn’t even put his finger on, she died when he was nineteen, four years later than for Gabriel. In his timeline, Maria had always been mourning the son she’d lost, and it had taken her years to convince Flynn that it didn’t mean she loved him any less. In his timeline—

Why had she even married Asher, when she still had Gabriel? Was his mother just made to suffer? Was that what the timeline had in store for her no matter what?

Whatever the reason, he’d grown up with a father who hit him until Flynn was big enough to start hitting back. He didn’t know a childhood away from that, a childhood with a brother who’d protected him and gotten him out. And he certainly didn’t know what resentments and brotherly frustrations had kept them from speaking even after the Croatian war. Through Josip’s death, through meeting Lorena, had it never once occurred to him to reach out to his brother?

He’d dreamed of his big brother while growing up. Dreamed of an older brother who would guide him, protect him, show him how to ride a bike and help him with his math homework and take him to the movies. Now he had one—and he had no idea how to say _I’m sorry, but this schism between us isn’t my fault. It’s not me._

How could he possibly—

And Lucy and Amy were bringing it all up again, all those fears and frustrations, how hard was it to pick up a damn phone and call the guy—

The key sounded in the lock and Flynn flinched, looking over.

Wyatt stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Hey, Lucy said she’d be home soon.”

Flynn nodded and Wyatt paused, taking off his shoes. “Um… no offense but have you been sitting there staring at that thing this whole time?”

“That obvious?”

Wyatt shrugged, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. “You look like you’ve been in a staring contest with yourself.”

Flynn set the phone aside. “I was, ah, thinking of calling my brother.”

“Oh.” Wyatt’s eyes went a little wide. “Yeah, that’s right. You have one now.”

“For what it’s worth. He’s… pissed at me, for a few reasons. Being declared a terrorist is one of them.”

“Denise got you cleared of all charges. Gave you a medal.”

“Yeah, I think it’s more the… I was declared a terrorist and had my family murdered and fled to Brazil instead of telling him. Apparently in this timeline…” Flynn forced himself to take a deep breath. “In this timeline, he flew over to the states to help Lorena’s mom and sister with the, uh, funeral and everything.”

“Fuck.” Wyatt made a face, walking over as Flynn stood up. “Yeah that’ll put a damper on sibling bonding.” He gave a small, tentative smile. “But take it from someone who’s majorly fucked up, if you make an effort, he’ll start to forgive you. I mean.” Wyatt shrugged. “You haven’t done any of the shit I’ve pulled and Jess and Lucy and Rufus managed to forgive me, so?”

Flynn swallowed. This wasn’t how he’d wanted Wyatt coming over to go. This was supposed to be about officially asking Wyatt to sleep with them, about him and Lucy getting to finally kiss Wyatt, run their hands on him, get Wyatt to beg and plead and _whimper_ for them…

“I suppose the question is,” Flynn admitted, “do I want to even reach out at all.”

“Why not?”

Flynn shrugged. “After what I’ve done…”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” Wyatt scoffed. “Come on. You saved time itself, Flynn.”

“Lucy—”

“Gave you the journal, yeah, I’m not discounting her but you were the one who chose to follow it and do something about it, you stole the Mothership, you fought Rittenhouse, nobody else. You—you supported all of us, Flynn, you were the one who kept us going, especially Lucy.” Wyatt’s hands were clenched into fists, and somehow they’d drifted closer while they’d spoken. “Gabriel should be fucking grateful to have a brother like you. Even if you hadn’t saved his goddamn life.”

Flynn couldn’t help but smile a little. Wyatt faltered. “What?”

Flynn shrugged. “And to think, you hated me once.”

Wyatt flushed. “I… yeah, well, I was stupid. I don’t… I haven’t hated you for a while.”

“Well thank God for that, otherwise this would be really stupid.”

“What would?”

Flynn took Wyatt’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Wyatt made a startled noise against Flynn’s mouth, but Flynn pressed in softly, kissing him slowly, working him until Wyatt relaxed and pressed back up against him, going limp. He pulled back just enough to get a breath and then kissed him again, still soft but sure, careful.

Flynn pulled back, just enough for him to catch a proper breath, and the front door opened.

“Oh.” Lucy closed the door behind her, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “What have I missed?”

 

* * *

 

Of all the ways Wyatt had imagined Flynn kissing him, he hadn’t thought it would be so soft and thoughtful.

It made him melt.

He was so stupidly lost in it, his knees near to buckling, when the front door opened and Lucy walked in and Wyatt could only stare.

She was—she was okay with this, right? Right?

Lucy smirked at him like it was her birthday. “What have I missed?”

“Not much,” Flynn said. “Just a kiss or two.”

“And I’m guessing you did it before explaining yourself,” Lucy said, dropping her purse and kicking off her shoes and walking over. Her hand slid up Wyatt’s arm to his shoulder. “Wyatt. I think we’ve made it pretty clear that our interest in you isn’t just friendly.”

“You don’t say,” he commented.

Lucy took his chin in her hand and tilted his face to hers. “Careful with that sass, there, Mr. Logan.”

Oh fuck. A shiver worked down his spine and he could feel the ghost of Lucy’s smirk against his mouth as she leaned in. “If we said we wanted to take you to bed, and not just the once, what would you say?”

Wyatt remembered what he’d overheard the other day. What Lucy had said, and how Flynn had begged. That same tone was in her voice now. “I’d say… yes, please, ma’am.”

Lucy’s eyes gleamed. “Somebody’s ready to be a good boy, then?”

…oh God yes. “Flynn… told me a bit about… about the whole… dominance thing.”

Lucy gently stroked his cheek and Wyatt felt Flynn’s hands settle on his shoulders from behind, then felt Flynn’s mouth—oh God—ghosting along the back of his neck.

“We can ease you into that,” Lucy assured him. “Hmm?” Her fingers moved down to stroke his throat, and Wyatt shivered all the way down through his body. “We’ll go slow. Nothing wrong with good old fashioned regular sex.”

Wyatt swallowed, his throat dry. “No, nothing wrong, um, with that at all.” Flynn was still slowly musing kisses down Wyatt’s neck, to his shoulder, tugging aside the collar of his shirt and it was all Wyatt could do not to lean back into him.

“Nothing has to change,” Lucy promised. Her hands dropped down, her fingers hooking into his belt loops, and she took a tiny step closer to press up against him. Wyatt just about lost his mind. “It’ll just be that now when you come over… after dinner… or during a movie… if we want to kiss you… or other things… now we can.”

“You know I haven’t…” It was very, very difficult to think properly when he had Flynn’s mouth on him, Flynn’s hands sliding down his sides, Lucy’s fingers toying with the hem of his jeans, Lucy’s mouth brushing against his jaw, his cheek, his lips. “I haven’t done, anything, like this before.”

“Do you trust us? To take care of you?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Lucy kissed the corner of his mouth. “We want to take _very_ good care of you.”

He turned his face instinctively, trying to follow her, and Lucy laughed softly. “Oh, you want it so badly, don’t you sweetheart?”

That remind him of something, something Flynn had said last night, and he paused.

“You asked why I want it,” Wyatt said. He turned his head to look at Flynn. “I… want someone else to take control. I think. I like when someone else—I like following orders and I want to stop—that loss of control, that you talked about.”

Lucy tangled her fingers in the hair at the back of his head and tugged him back to her, sealing her mouth against his properly.

Wyatt sagged back against Flynn as Lucy kissed all the structure right out of his body, left him a puddle as she slid her tongue into his mouth and twisted and sucked just so.

Flynn’s arms slid around Wyatt’s stomach, his hand moving up underneath Wyatt’s shirt to skim his fingertips along his stomach.

“We’ll go as slow as you want,” Lucy promised him.

“I don’t want you to go slow,” Wyatt blurted out. “I want—” He swallowed. “I want everything. Everything you want to give me.”

Lucy kissed him again. “Then follow us.”

She took his hands and tugged, and Wyatt, God help him, followed.

He’d never been into Lucy and Flynn’s bedroom before, not in all the time that he’d known them. He wasn’t surprised that it was done up halfway between feminine and masculine, the colors soft blues but not a lot of lace or frills. He was a little surprised that it was blue, not red, but he supposed blue was a more soothing color for actually sleeping in.

When he saw how big the bed was, another shiver ran down his spine. It was an inescapable reality that he was about to get fucked on that bed.

Not that he wanted to escape.

Lucy sauntered over to the bed, then turned around, sitting on the edge and trailing her fingers along the bedspread. She crooked a finger at him, and Wyatt stumbled over to her, bending down so that Lucy could take his face in her hands and kiss him again. God, he could kiss her for hours, letting her dictate how fast or slow or how deep.

He felt large hands sliding around his hips, undoing his jeans with slow, deliberate touch, then pushing his shirt up so that Flynn’s mouth could mark a trail up Wyatt’s spine.

Wyatt pulled back with a gasp, and Flynn and Lucy worked together to yank the shirt up and over his head. Lucy started undoing her top, grinning breathlessly up at Wyatt. “You’re going to get me nice and wet and open,” she whispered. “And then you’re going to fuck me.”

“Can…” Wyatt swallowed, hardly believing he was actually saying this out loud. “Can Flynn fuck me, too?”

Lucy paused, her hands running slowly up and down Wyatt’s chest. Behind him, Flynn made a startled, strangled noise. “Are you sure?” Flynn rasped. He moved around to the front, kissing along Wyatt’s jaw. “Wyatt, are you really sure.”

“I—yes. I’ve been… thinking about this for a while and… I sort of… test drove.”

“Oh?” Lucy purred. “Did you now?”

“And I—I’m clean, and I know you two are. I trust you two.”

Flynn’s hand skimmed up and down Wyatt’s spine. “If you’re sure… but tell us if it’s too much or if we need to stop.”

“I will,” Wyatt promised.

“Let the fun begin,” Lucy said, pulling Wyatt down on top of her onto the bed and spreading her legs. “C’mon, sweetheart, get me nice and ready for you.”

Wyatt nearly choked on his own spit. He helped Lucy get her pants off as Flynn climbed onto the bed and kissed her, undoing her bra and sliding his hands over her breasts. Wyatt nearly got distracted watching the two of them together. Lucy’s face as her mouth dropped open on a moan while Flynn kissed his way down her throat to her breast, his mouth sealing over her nipple, the way Flynn’s tongue moved, his large hands on her stomach…

Lucy grabbed Wyatt’s wrist and guided it between her legs. Right. Yes. Stay focused.

He kissed her thighs, hardly believing this was actually real, that he was actually getting to put his mouth on her soft skin, to slide his fingers up and into the slick, tight heat of her.

Lucy made tiny mewling, gasping noises as Flynn kept using his mouth and hands on her breasts, one hand coming up to tug at her hair. Wyatt couldn’t stop watching, his fingers twisting inside of her, curling, seeking—

Lucy moaned properly, her hips jerking, screwing down onto his fingers. Wyatt grinned, his thumb rubbing her clit as he hit that spot again.

“ _Lijep_ ,” Flynn murmured, smirking at Lucy and then glancing over at Wyatt. “You too, _zgodan dečko_.” He leaned in and kissed Wyatt softly.

“You’ll want to get him—get him ready,” Lucy managed, her hand running gently through Flynn’s hair.

Flynn pulled back and moved behind Wyatt again. “Let me know if you need me to slow down or stop,” he murmured in Wyatt’s ear, nipping at the lobe. Wyatt shuddered, and then Flynn’s hands were shoving his pants down.

He heard the sound of clothes coming off and wanted to turn around and look, but Lucy had a hand in his hair now and was guiding him to kiss at her breasts and stomach as he scissored his fingers inside her, stretching her.

And then Flynn’s hands were on his legs, diving between them, stroking his cock—as if he wasn’t hard enough already, as if he wasn’t leaking from how much he wanted this, how much he’d been dreaming about this—

“ _God_ I wish you could see yourself,” Lucy whispered, tugging on his hair a little. Wyatt whined, the sensation shooting right through him like an electric shock. “You’re so desperate for it.”

“Do you know how long we’ve wanted this?” Flynn asked. Wyatt heard the bedside drawer being opened, and then a cap being flipped. He latched his mouth onto Wyatt’s pulse point, sucking, and Wyatt just about melted. A groan escaped him and then he felt slick fingers—oh God not his own fingers, other fingers, Flynn’s dexterous, long, thick fingers—circling and massaging and—

“Years,” Wyatt burst out. “I wanted—for years, wanted you both so badly, I was terrified you’d find out and hate me…”

“Never,” Lucy promised.

Flynn slid a finger inside of him and Wyatt’s mouth dropped open, all the air going out of his lungs. “We’ve wanted to wreck you for months,” Flynn murmured. His finger twisted slowly in and out of Wyatt and Wyatt was, admittedly, rather glad that he’d practiced and gotten a dildo. It made this feel good, familiar, and less terrifying.

“Relax,” Flynn ordered.

Wyatt inhaled sharply and then forced himself to exhale slowly and deeply.

“Good boy,” Lucy praised.

Wyatt shivered.

“Oh.” Flynn’s chuckle echoed in Wyatt’s ears. “You like praise, do you?”

“You want us to tell you how good you are?” Lucy asked as Wyatt added a third finger, wanting to make sure she was really ready.

Flynn squeezed the base of Wyatt’s cock and he jerked, hot all over, his skin feeling two sizes too small. Flynn added a second finger and Wyatt started to feel the stretch, the burn, but in the best way possible. “Yes,” Wyatt blurted out. “Yes, fuck, yes, I want that.”

“You're being so good, so very good,” Lucy said at once. “We're going to—to mark you up and make you feel good and make you—train you to be so good for us, take care of you like you want—”

God, yes, he did want that, he wanted that so very badly. He'd do just about anything they asked of him, put himself in their hands. They'd take care of him, he knew they would.

Lucy gently guided Wyatt’s hand out of her. “Come on, sweetheart, get inside me.” She pushed herself up, kissing all over his face, his neck, before pulling him in to kiss him full on the mouth again. Wyatt was so lost in the kiss he barely noticed Flynn shifting until he felt a third finger sliding into him and he yelped, biting on Lucy’s lip.

Lucy just laughed, helping Wyatt move forward as Flynn curled his fingers, finding that—oh God that, that right there, _that_ —

Wyatt moaned, and the funny thing was he’d always held back his noises, almost all his life, thinking that men weren’t supposed to—that women were the ones who makes breathy little sounds and got loud—but Flynn growled in pleasure whenever Wyatt made a noise, and Lucy kept kissing him, a pleased smile on her face that he could feel, could practically taste.

“That’s it,” Lucy whispered. She spread her legs wider, helped guide him into her. “Let us hear you, c’mon…”

Wyatt started to slide inside of her and nearly choked. Flynn’s fingers were still inside him, twisting, stretching, oh God it was so much—and inside Lucy at the same time—

It had been a while, over two years in fact, and Jesus Christ, he was barely holding it together. It felt like he was sliding into lava but in the best way, sinking down and enveloped and absolutely melting.

“You ready?” Flynn murmured as Wyatt slipped another inch into Lucy, who gave a small sound of appreciation, biting down hard on her bottom lip.

“Yes,” he panted, God yes.

“Why don’t you ask for what you want?” Lucy said. It was technically a question, but Wyatt knew an order when he heard one.

“Please,” he begged. “Please, please—” He wasn’t sure if it would be okay, but— “Garcia, please, please fuck me.”

The sound Flynn made was unreal, and Wyatt nearly came on the spot. He sank into Lucy the rest of the way, his eyes falling shut of his own accord, struggling to hold on.

He felt Lucy’s hands run through his hair. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun with you,” she crooned. She kissed along his jaw, then low on his cheek. “Open your eyes, sweetheart, I want to see you. I want to watch you.”

Wyatt forced his eyes open, and felt Flynn’s fingers slide out of him. Oh, Jesus Christ, he nearly choked on his own spit in anticipation. He wanted, he needed, he was going to get it—

“Breathe for me, _zgodan dečko_ ,” Flynn murmured, repeating the endearment. Wyatt had no clue what it meant but fuck it sounded hot, the way the words of Flynn’s native language rolled off his tongue.

He did his best to breathe as he felt—oh _fuck_ and a toy really couldn’t compare, it wasn’t the same as Flynn actually pushing inside him, hot and hard and real, _fuck_.

It was like a circuit, Flynn inside of him, him inside of Lucy, the connection, all of them—he didn’t know which overwhelmed him more, Flynn inside of him, spreading him, filling him, or being inside Lucy, surrounded by tight heat, inescapable. Trapped between them and never wanting to be anywhere else.

They all took a moment, Flynn resting his forehead on Wyatt’s shoulder, Lucy taking in gulps of air with her hair all spread out around her like a dark halo, Wyatt trying not to lose his goddamn mind.

Flynn’s hands slid over him, up his chest, pinching his nipples and back down again, probably trying to soothe him but only driving him crazier. Wyatt pushed back into him and he felt Flynn grin against the skin of his shoulder and push back.

Lucy clawed at Wyatt’s arms. “That’s it,” she whispered, urging the both of them on. “Come on…”

It took a few moments to get it a good rhythm but then—oh God then—Flynn was as thorough in this as he was in everything, shifting slightly until he got the angle just right and Wyatt saw stars behind his eyes, and Wyatt got his hands under Lucy’s legs so she could wrap them around him, get a deeper angle, and she cried out and dug her nails in as she arched up to meet him. He was caught, sucked in by the undertow, feeling sloppy and mindless, doing whatever he could to chase that high, chase the sounds the other two were making, wanting them to feel good, wanting to feel everything, everything they could give him—

“Talk to us,” Flynn growled, kissing along behind Wyatt’s ear, down his neck.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Wyatt spat out.

“That’s what we’re—doing—” Lucy joked breathlessly, laughing through her gasps. She clenched around him and Wyatt swore again.

Flynn increased his speed and Wyatt blurted out before he could stop himself, “God oh God oh fuck _Garcia_ —”

“That’s it,” Flynn encouraged.

“Come on sweetheart,” Lucy blurted out. “I’m—I’m so close I’m—”

He reached down, between her legs, _fuck_ she was so slick—he rubbed his thumb in circles over her clit and Lucy cried out shuddering, tightening around him and Flynn was hitting that perfect spot over and over and over and _over_ —

Wyatt fell over the cliff and drowned and it was the best goddamn moment in his life.

He felt Flynn coming inside him, marking him up, and oh, fuck, that was messy and amazing and he shivered all over again, feeling used and dirty and fucking fantastic.

They kind of all fell in a heap together, legs tangled, Lucy’s hand carding through his hair as Flynn took her other hand, gently kissing the knuckles, his other arm securely around Wyatt’s chest.

“Shower?” Lucy whispered. She pressed her forehead to Wyatt’s, smiling, her fingers gently petting his cheek. Flynn leaned across Wyatt and she kissed him, deep and slow, and Wyatt realized—he didn’t have to hide anymore. He could watch them as much as he wanted, watch as Flynn got a handful of Lucy’s hair, as his thumb gently stroked her cheekbone, as Lucy kissed the tip of Flynn’s nose, as she tugged on his lower lip with her teeth.

“You rather like watching, don’t you?” Lucy noted, teasing, reaching out and running the back of her fingers across Wyatt’s cheek. He turned his head, catching the tips of her fingers and kissing them, and Lucy laughed softly.

Flynn pulled away, holding out a hand for each of them. Wyatt took one hand, Lucy the other, and Flynn hauled them to their feet. Wyatt stumbled a little—he felt inside out, his legs like jelly. Flynn steadied him with an arm around his waist. “Careful, soldier.”

Lucy grabbed them both, tugging them towards the bathroom. “The night’s young, boys.”

“It’s not even night,” Flynn pointed out. “It’s five in the afternoon.”

“Even more time, then,” Lucy said with a grin, waggling her eyebrows. “Time for a shower, and dinner, and round two.”

Round two? Wyatt might not actually survive round two.

…but like hell was he saying no to this.

 

* * *

 

Lucy slipped back into bed, Flynn already reaching for her. He was a light sleeper and always woke up whenever she had to get up, even if it was only to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Wyatt, on the other hand, was sleeping like the dead on Flynn’s other side, his face tucked into Flynn’s shoulder, his arm slung around Flynn’s waist. It made her heart swell to see them like this, relaxed, Wyatt looked like he was getting the first good sleep he’d had in ages.

“Everything all right?” Flynn asked.

She heard the unspoken question underneath it. “No nightmares,” she whispered, sliding back into Flynn’s side, letting him wrap his arm around her.

“You’re happy then, my love?”

Lucy kissed his chest, sliding her hand down to tangle her fingers with Wyatt’s, relishing the weight of Flynn’s arm around her, the rise and fall of his chest under her ear as he breathed.

“Yes,” she assured him. “Yes, darling, I’m happy.”

Flynn kissed her hair, his fingers idly brushing up and down her side. Lucy smiled sleepily.

Oh, the plans she had… now the fun could really begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flynn's calling Wyatt 'handsome boy,' by the way, for those of you wondering.


	8. Chapter 8

Flynn took a deep breath, settling on the couch and pulling the laptop into his lap. Lucy settled next to him, tucking her feet underneath her and resting her head on his shoulder. “You sure you’re ready for this?” she asked.

Flynn nodded. “I have to jump in and do it or I’ll never get around to it. Like ripping off a band aid.”

Lucy kissed his neck, her hands sliding around to hold onto his arm. “If you ever want me to leave, darling, just say so.”

“No. No, I want you here.”

He opened the laptop and pulled up Skype, scrolling through and finding Gabriel’s number.

He hit the call button.

Flynn had the oddest sensation of wondering if he needed to change his shirt. He was wearing that burgundy turtleneck that Lucy loved so much, and he’d let her fix up his hair after he’d been fussing with it forever. He knew he looked fine. Yet somehow he felt informal. Or perhaps too formal, maybe he should wear a t shirt…

The Skype call was answered and Gabriel appeared. He was sitting at what looked like a desk.

“Garcia.” Gabriel had spent his first twelve years in America, then the next six years in Croatia, then went to school in England, then had gotten his master’s in Italy, and had been in Paris for however long—so his accent was a mess.

“Hey, Gabe,” Flynn said, and then winced. He wasn’t sure if a nickname was the kind of thing they did.

“You said that you… wanted to talk.” Gabriel sounded cautious. His eyes darted to the side. “Oh, hello, Lucy.”

Gabriel’s reception of Lucy was a bit lukewarm. Flynn could intellectually understand. He’d disappeared after his wife and daughter were murdered and then turned up six years later married to another woman.

At the same time, though, he wanted to strangle Gabriel for not being completely welcoming to Lucy. Lucy was warm and brilliant and a ray of sunshine, full of life and love and passion. How could anyone not love her?

“Hi, Gabriel.” Lucy smiled. “I hope you don’t mind my being here. I can go if you like.”

There was a definite pause as Gabriel considered that. “No, it’s all right.”

“I just wanted to catch up,” Flynn said. “See how you were.”

God, could he get any more awkward?

“I’m fine,” Gabriel said neutrally. “How about—”

Flynn’s phone rang, and not just the normal ring, the distinctive one he’d programmed for Stacy, since she was in charge of the security firm when Flynn wasn’t there.

Shit.

“Hold on, Gabe, I’m just going to grab this, it’s work.” He felt like absolute shit.

Behind him, he heard the door open. “Hey, thought I’d—oh, hey,” Wyatt said, pausing as he saw there was someone on Skype.

“Who’s that?” Gabriel asked.

Lucy’s grin was distinctively scheming. “This is Wyatt.”

Flynn saw the train heading for the mountain, decided it wasn’t worth trying to pull the brake, and opted to answer Stacy’s phone call in the kitchen instead.

He hated that it felt like he was being rescued, that he was being a coward.

 

* * *

 

Lucy beckoned Wyatt over. “C’mere, Wyatt. This is Gabriel, Garcia’s older brother.”

She knew that Gabriel didn’t exactly like her. She’d replaced Lorena without any real explanation and was a physical, tangible sign that Flynn had moved on in his life without telling any of it to Gabriel.

It had to be a real blow.

Wyatt walked over tentatively, sitting down next to Lucy on the couch. Lucy draped her legs over his lap, shifting the laptop accordingly, and Wyatt automatically started massaging her feet.

She had him well trained in that aspect. It gave her every confidence that she’d soon have Wyatt trained in other things as well. Like holding off on orgasm until she said so…

“I’m a friend of Lucy and Flynn’s,” Wyatt said.

“A very close friend,” Lucy emphasized.

Wyatt glared at her.

“So, anyway, Gabriel, sell any interesting pieces lately?” Lucy asked.

“Business has kind of been slow,” Gabriel admitted. “I was thinking about taking a holiday.”

“You should come and visit your brother,” Wyatt blurted out.

Lucy was sure her face matched Gabriel’s in shock as she turned and stared at Wyatt.

Wyatt blushed. “I… I just think, you two, could use some good time together. And you should see their house, it’s beautiful. And get to properly meet Lucy.”

Lucy leaned to the side a little to see where Flynn was. She couldn’t see him—he must have gone out the back door to the yard.

“I—” Gabriel started to speak, but Wyatt plowed forward.

“Flynn’s been through a lot,” he said. “And he really could use a brother. And—and he wants to reconnect with you, even if he’s too stubborn to say it out loud. He’s honestly one of the best men that I know and I think you’d miss out if you didn’t come by and spend some time with him and talk about—about things.” Wyatt faltered a little, glancing at Lucy as if realizing how he’d been steamrolling.

“I’m not sure…”

“We’d love to have you,” Lucy said quickly. “And now’s the best time, before we—we’re working on having a child with a surrogate, and so it’s best if you get to come over now, before we have our hands full with a little one. We’d hate for you to come over and have us unable to host you properly.”

She gave Gabriel one of her most winning smiles, the kind she’d gotten very good at giving the boring old white men in charge to convince them to give her the information she needed on missions.

Gabriel looked like he was faltering for a moment more, and then gave a tentative, slightly forced smile. “Well, if you really insist…”

“Flynn would love it,” Wyatt said.

Lucy nodded.

“Flynn would love what?” the man himself asked, walking back in, phone in hand.

“If Gabriel visited,” Lucy replied. “Wyatt’s made quite a case for it.”

Flynn looked a little like he’d been hit on the head with a sack of bricks. “Ah, yes, if he wants—I don’t want to force—”

“No, your wife and your… friend were very insistent,” Gabriel said.

Lucy bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from asking exactly what Gabriel meant from his pause before he said ‘friend’ but she figured starting a fight with your brother-in-law wasn’t the best idea.

“Then, um, we’ll set a date,” Flynn said. He still looked incredibly lost, like someone had just told him to drive to Chicago without using a road map.

“Great.”

“Great. I’ll—we’ll talk.”

Once they had accomplished the monumental task of hanging up the Skype call, Lucy set the laptop on the coffee table and tackled Wyatt, who went down with a surprised _oomph_. She then proceeded to kiss him very, very thoroughly.

“What was that for?” Wyatt panted once she’d pulled back.

Lucy grinned. “For convincing Gabriel to come visit.”

“I’m not—I mean—it might blow up in our faces once he gets here.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be rewarded?” Lucy asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Um… no?”

She kissed him again. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt had absolutely no idea what ‘reward’ Lucy had in mind, but he was along for the ride no matter what. He kissed her back as Lucy slid her hands down his body, undoing his pants. “If I’m remembering correctly,” Lucy murmured, “you rather liked it when I got my mouth on your cock in Hollywood…” She toyed with the zipper of his jeans, sucking on his tongue in a sinful tease.

Oh, yes, Wyatt wanted that—his whole body shivered and melted at the thought—but when that had happened, he’d never returned the favor.

And God, did he want to.

“I think I’d rather get my mouth on you,” Wyatt blurted out.

Lucy paused, her eyebrows raising. “Oh?”

Behind him he heard Flynn finishing doing something with his phone—probably compiling an email to Gabriel begging his forgiveness for his insane sexual partners—and then Flynn was bracing his hands on the arm of the couch and leaning over. “As if I’d miss this,” he growled.

Lucy sat up, tugging on Wyatt’s shirt until he sat up with her and she could manhandle his shirt off him. Wyatt laughed as he let her. “You’re not even going to be—I’m the one who needs to get the clothes off of you—”

“She likes eye candy,” Flynn said knowingly. He winked at Lucy and then got a handful of Wyatt’s hair, tugging his head back. “And you’re very pretty to look at.”

He sealed his mouth over Wyatt’s, sliding their tongues together as Lucy kissed down his throat, along his chest. He shuddered, loving the feeling of being overwhelmed and surrounded. He wondered if it would ever become mundane, or if he would ever even start to get used to it.

He hoped not.

Flynn pulled back, tugging lightly on Wyatt’s hair again. Wyatt whimpered—a sound he would never admit to making outside of this house, with these two people. “You enjoy that,” Flynn said, his voice low and inordinately pleased.

“Maybe,” Wyatt admitted.

“You might want to get these off,” Lucy said.

Flynn kissed Wyatt again until Wyatt felt Lucy tugging at him. “Pants,” she ordered, gesturing at her clothes. “Off.”

Wyatt hurried to obey.

“My fault, I was distracting him,” Flynn said.

Lucy lazily pet through Wyatt’s hair as she drew Flynn in to kiss him next. Wyatt slid her pants down, kissing along her stomach. Lucy arched up into his mouth, making a pleased hum against Flynn’s lips. “Mmm, but you are so very good at making things up to me.”

“He likes it when you tell him what to do,” Flynn noted.

Lucy tightened her hold in his hair a little and Wyatt groaned a little, the sensation shooting right down his spine.

“Do you like it?” Lucy asked, conversationally.

“Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt replied.

“Would you like it if I ordered you to do more than this? Like if I told you… to eat me until I told you to stop, no matter how long that was?”

Wyatt sucked a mark into her upper thigh, nodding. Lucy tugged sharply at his hair. “Words, Wyatt, we need words from you, so I know for sure I’m understanding you.”

“Yes,” he told her, looking up into her dark, sharp eyes.

She stroked his cheek. “Very good. And what if I told you that you weren’t allowed to come until I said you were allowed, would that be all right?”

“Yes.”

“What if I ordered both you and Flynn, hmm?”

Speaking of the devil, Flynn shifted around, his hands moving around Wyatt to finish the job Lucy had started in undoing his pants.

“What if,” Lucy suggested, hooking one leg over Wyatt’s shoulder and spreading the other one wide, where Flynn’s hand settled on her knee, “I ordered you to bend over and told Flynn to fuck you? Would you be okay with him touching you, and you touching him, in the ways I told you?”

Wyatt honestly felt lightheaded. Holy shit, that was an image. “Yes, I’d—I’d definitely be okay with that.” He paused. “I—I’d like you to do—everything you do to Flynn, I want you to do to me. And have—have him do to me, too.”

It was the most honest he’d ever been about what he wanted in bed. He and Jess had never—they hadn’t talked about their desires, really, their expectations, as much as they should have. Not in bed and not in their relationship in general, either. He and Lucy certainly hadn't in that train wreck of a first attempt. A part of him felt horribly exposed, embarrassed, to be voicing his thoughts aloud like this. But Lucy had ordered him to and he wanted to obey her, craved her praise and to fulfill her orders—and how else was she supposed to know his sexual desires, the dark, secret things he’d been dreaming about her and Flynn doing to him for years?

Flynn’s hand leisurely stroked up and down Wyatt’s stomach, feather light touches that only served to drive him crazier.

“You don’t even know all that we do to each other,” Lucy pointed out.

“I—sort of do.” Wyatt could feel his face burning. “I overheard you guys, the other day, when—you gave me a key and I came in and I swear I didn’t—I heard some stuff and then I left when I realized what it was, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I told you I heard someone,” Flynn said.

“Oh, hush,” Lucy replied, teasing. She reached down and took the hand Flynn had on her knee, squeezing it fondly. Then she fixed her gaze back on Wyatt. “Well, in that case…” She leaned back into the couch. “I think I’m going to give you some homework to take home. Make sure we know the lay of the land. I want to train you, not break you.”

…why did the words _train you_ make him so goddamn hard? Wyatt was pretty sure that all of the blood in his body was now in his cock. “Yes, please,” he managed to force out.

“We’ll start with a little dominance and submission, just to start.” Lucy dug her heel into his back. “Use that pretty mouth of yours and make me come.”

Dear. Fucking. Lord.

Wyatt braced his hands on Lucy’s thighs and licked a long stripe up through her folds. She was already wet—but he could make her wetter, he knew it. He was determined to, he wanted her to enjoy this, wanted to be good for her—

Flynn kissed Lucy slowly, deeply, for a few minutes as Wyatt worked his tongue in and out of her, but then he felt Flynn pull away from her and then Flynn’s mouth was at his ear and he was murmuring dark and low,

“You want to tease her, just flick at her clit a little—she likes a bit of teeth right at the end there, that sharper edge.” Flynn raised his voice just a little. “Don’t you, _draga_?”

“I will murder you, Garcia Flynn,” Lucy managed on a sharp gasp as Wyatt lapped at her folds.

“Very good,” Flynn praised quietly. His hand was spread wide across Wyatt’s back, anchoring him. Lucy’s hands had slid into his hair and were tugging periodically and it was like a line straight to his cock, getting him harder, electricity replacing the blood in his veins. “Just like that. You have to take your time, give a good build up. She gets impatient but it’s so worth it.”

Wyatt followed Flynn’s murmured instructions until Lucy was quietly chanting _fuck fuck fuck_ under her breath, her legs shaking beneath Wyatt’s hands.

“Now,” Flynn ordered.

Wyatt sealed his mouth over Lucy’s clit, running his teeth over it briefly, his tongue fluttering, and she swore violently and came with a full-body shudder, flooding his mouth.

He lapped it up as best he could until Lucy tugged him away, and then he was being pushed back and before he could even ask what was going on, Flynn was bending down and sliding his lips over Wyatt’s cock, sucking him down, and Wyatt groaned helplessly. His head fell back against the couch and he dug his fingers into the rug, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Flynn sucked him slowly, deliberately, like he’d been carefully planning this attack and was now moving against Wyatt like this was the final battle in the war.

But then, Flynn had always been a master of strategy.

Wyatt dared to slide his hand through Flynn’s hair and got a noise of approval for it. Lucy grabbed his other hand, entangling their fingers, and then she was bending over and kissing Wyatt upside down, her other hand scratching down his chest.

“Tell us some other things you want,” she whispered. “Be _very_ specific.”

Wyatt swallowed, his throat incredibly dry. Flynn’s mouth was tight and soft and perfect, his tongue finding all the little places and touches that made Wyatt jerk violently, and oh God oh _God_ it was so hard to concentrate. “I—I want—oh oh _fuck_ —”

“Yes, we will fuck you,” Lucy reassured him with a smug smile.

Wyatt tightened his hold on her hand. “I want you to—I want you to tie me up, I want it so—so I can’t move and you fuck me as much as you want as many times as you want because I can’t—because you’re in control and—oh my God oh my _fucking_ God—”

“We can work you up to that,” Lucy murmured. “You’d want us to take turns with you? Hmm? Just fuck you until you can’t even get it up anymore?”

Flynn swirled his tongue around the head and Wyatt just about lost his goddamn mind, his vision blanking for a hot second. “ _Yes_.”

“Mm, what else? What have you imagined, all by your lonesome in bed, hmm? What have you thought about us doing to you, all the very, very bad things we could do with a sweet thing like you?” Lucy kissed leisurely along his shoulder, her voice like silk.

“Sometimes I—I imagined I’d pushed too far. Been—been obstinate.” He realized that Flynn was stroking himself while he blew Wyatt and Wyatt thought he might actually have a heart attack and die because holy hell that was an image he was never forgetting until the day he died.

“Obstinate?” Lucy prompted.

Wyatt swallowed. “Yeah, yeah that I’m—that you have to punish me.”

“In what ways?”

It was so hard to think, it was so—he was close, fuck, he could feel it building at the base of his spine, between his legs, behind his eyes— “Spanking me until—until I’m so goddamn hard against the bedsheets, ordering me to—I’ve never but I want, I want to learn to blow Flynn, ordering me to blow him or eat you out, and I can’t touch myself—”

“You’re so close, aren’t you honey?” Lucy whispered. “If only you could see yourself. You’re so pretty like this, our pretty boy, all desperate…” She trailed a finger along his throat. “You know what you’d look especially handsome with?”

 _A collar_ , Wyatt wanted to say, _a collar, please, I’d wear a collar for you, I want to…_

“We should get you some nice cuffs. Leather ones, with some fur.” Lucy paused, her eyes gleaming as if imagining all the other things she could imagine Wyatt in. “Which reminds me, Garcia, we need to get you those leather gloves we were talking about.”

Oh holy fuck.

That did it. The idea of Flynn in leather gloves, sliding his hands over Lucy, over Wyatt, while Wyatt was tied up, a collar around his throat—he couldn’t hold back any longer and he came, shaking, a choked-off whine trapped in his throat.

A moment later he felt Flynn’s mouth hungrily, desperately descending onto his. “Can I mark you?” Flynn asked. “Can I—Wyatt—”

He would’ve given Flynn anything he wanted in that moment. “Yes.”

Lucy grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the couch, and Wyatt swore he felt a final pulse of pleasure shoot through him at the feeling of it. “Just holding you down to start, that feel good?” she whispered.

Wyatt’s toes were fucking curling. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, so very good.” She kissed his cheek. Flynn was stroking himself hard and fast now, close to the edge. “You want him all over you, don’t you? Making you his? Ours?”

“Yes—yes ma’am.”

Lucy trailed a finger down from between his eyebrows to the tip of his nose. “You’re ours, now, Wyatt, if you want. Do you want?”

“ _God_ yes.”

“Then why don’t you say it?” She brushed her lips against his ear. “This is called interrogation. Asking you questions, making you answer. Go on, say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“One more time for me.”

“Yours, Lucy, yours and Flynn’s, Garcia’s, I’m yours.”

He felt the warm splash of liquid on his chest as Flynn came, and if he’d been a teenager he would’ve been hard all over again just from that, just from the feeling of being completely claimed.

Flynn swooped in, kissing Wyatt like he’d die if he didn’t get his mouth on him, possessive and fierce and biting. Wyatt felt like all the bones had fled his body and he let Flynn absolutely plunder his mouth, pliant, eager, wanting to be taken.

“A little caveman came out there,” Lucy teased, pulling Flynn over to kiss him, releasing Wyatt’s wrists. “Wyatt, why don’t you hop in the shower. I’m going to print out your homework.”

“Homework?” Wyatt slurred.

Lucy laughed, cupping his cheek and turning his face up to look at her. “You’re such a sensitive one. I’ll have to be careful with you.”

She was wearing a blouse and her hair and makeup weren’t done, but she might as well have been wearing a goddamn leather corset for the amount of domme tone in her voice just then. “I trust you,” Wyatt said.

“I’m glad,” Lucy replied, her voice soft and fond. “Now, go get cleaned up. You’re the messiest.”

“You like me messy,” he dared to shoot back.

“We do,” Flynn growled, standing up. “I’ll be right back, I’ll make us some lunch.”

“Oh, well, if you absolutely insist,” Lucy replied, smiling up at him with stars in her eyes.

God, he loved them both so fucking much.

He wished they loved him back.

 

* * *

 

Lucy printed out a blank list, then filled out her own and had Flynn quickly fill out his, all while Wyatt was in the shower. She peered at her husband’s form over her shoulder, biting her lip to hide her smile. “Do you really have to give everything a sarcastic comment?”

Flynn had just written _I’m going to steal the Mothership again just so I can go back and kill Freud_ next to _infantilization_. “I have a right to express my opinion.”

“But what if he’s into something and then you’ve just gotten your sass all over it and rained on his parade?”

“I highly doubt he’s going to be into anything we aren’t into.”

“You never know, he might want you to give him an enema.”

“Please. Do not ever. Say that again.”

Lucy kissed him on the cheek, right where his dimples showed when he smiled. “But you’re just so fun to tease, darling.”

Wyatt came down the stairs, freshly showered, wearing one of Flynn’s t shirts. “Is it okay that I borrowed this?” he asked.

Flynn’s growl was answer enough, but just in case Wyatt didn’t get the message, he also walked over and kissed him nice and deep.

She really wished she had a camera for moments like this.

“Wyatt, come over here,” she ordered.

Wyatt obeyed immediately. Oh, yes, it was so ingrained in him already to listen to her and she loved it.

Lucy showed him the forms. “We want to get an idea of what you’re into and what you’re not into, and what you’re curious about but unsure if you’d like, and what you’re nervous about but willing to try. Flynn and I have each filled out a form, so you can see for yourself what we like, and places where I like something and Flynn is only lukewarm about it but does it for my sake, and vice versa. That comes up sometimes with things like this.”

“She likes to be called a…” Flynn paused.

“A slut,” Lucy finished.

Flynn winced.

Lucy reached over, taking Flynn’s hand and rubbing her thumb over his knuckles to soothe him. “So there’s an example right there. It’s okay if we all don’t match up perfectly, but we need to communicate and know where we stand so that we don’t accidentally disappoint anyone or cross any boundaries, and we can negotiate on things—like, I’ll do this because you like it, and you’ll do this for me because I like it. Finding middle ground.”

Wyatt took all the papers delicately, like he thought they might explode. It was adorable.

“I also wanted to show you something while Flynn is making lunch.” Lucy got up. “Come with me.”

She hooked a finger in Wyatt’s belt loop and tugged him along back up the stairs. Wyatt followed obediently—and she couldn’t help but imagine her finger was hooked into a collar instead, leading him along…

God, she hoped that Wyatt was into all the things she wanted to do to him.

When they got to the bedroom she went into the closet, taking out the box where they held all their toys. “Take this,” she said, holding up the rope. They used the silk ties most often but sometimes she or Flynn wanted it a little rougher.

“What for?” Wyatt asked. “Aren’t you supposed to tie me up with it?”

“Thinking you want something, and imagining it, and actually experiencing it are two different things,” Lucy replied. She set the box aside and sat down on the edge of the bed. “There was a fascinating book written that had women anonymously confess their deepest, darkest sexual fantasies. The point of the book was to show that women didn’t just have simple, romantic, flowery fantasies the way everyone was taught to suppose they did. That sexual fantasies are confusing and often twisted and kinky, and that women can be just as, well, dirty as men.

“Some of those fantasies included women fantasizing being sexually assaulted, raped—some women who’d survived concentration camps fantasized about Nazi officers and talked about the huge guilt and self-disgust they felt. But not one of them actually wanted what they imagined to happen to them. They didn’t want it to be real. I’m sure some of them wanted the roleplay of it, people will do that. But for most people—the fantasy outstrips the reality.

“And while I’m sure… most of us are pretty damn sure that if we fantasize about being assaulted we don’t actually want it to happen, with some things the line is a lot more blurry. It’s like when you’re a kid and you think you want to go into the haunted house and you’re so excited for it and you imagine what it will be like and then you get there… and you can’t go in. You’re scared and crying and you don’t want to, and if you do go in, you don’t enjoy it.”

She looked up at him. Wyatt’s eyes were wide and he held the papers she’d given him gingerly in his hands like he thought they might suddenly explode on him. “I don’t want that for you. I don’t want to be in the middle of a session and have you go into a bad place in your mind because you don’t actually want what you thought you did. And I don’t want to do something with you only to realize later that you were miserable.”

“Well, I mean,” Wyatt shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I’m not asking you to—um, assault me.”

“No, but being tied up can create panic that you didn’t expect as it hits you that you really can’t move.” Lucy paused. “Or, well, you can, technically. Flynn and I tie knots that we can actually get ourselves out of, if we’re really determined. But it takes some work and concentration and just those first few moments of panic can be enough to send you into a tailspin.”

She held up the rope again. “So. What I’m going to do is I’m going to show you some self-bondage. It’s a way to tie your hands and feet so that you have the rope around them, but you can do all the knots yourself and you can undo the knots very easily. You’re in total control. I want you to try that on yourself at home, and if you really do like it, then Flynn and I will try tying you up.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sound good?”

Wyatt looked frozen for a second, all of that sinking in, and then nodded. “Okay.”

“Excellent. Sit next to me then.”

It took Wyatt a few tries to get it right, but then he was able to do it just as well as she could. Delta training, she presumed. Lucy couldn’t fail to notice how his cheeks had been dusted with pink and his breathing had gotten a little shallow as he’d pulled the rope tight.

The rest of the evening was normal. They ate dinner, they chatted, Lucy graded papers while Flynn and Wyatt played chess.

It was just like the past couple of years had been. Only better, because now she could kiss Wyatt every time he made a good move in chess, and do the same to Flynn, spurring the both of them into a much more competitive mode. Now she could sit in Flynn’s lap and press her foot between Wyatt’s legs, squirming her hips to make Flynn blush and arching and clenching her toes to make Wyatt grow stiff.

She could, in short, act upon her desires.

It was fantastic.

She could only hope that Wyatt’s homework would go well. And that he’d come back ready for them to move properly into the more… kinky aspects of their sexual relationship.

A shiver worked down her spine every time she imagined it. Flynn had entered his relationship with her already knowing his kinks, his limits, knowledgeable on how all of this worked. But Wyatt she got to train and mold and build from the ground up. As a domme, it made her salivate.

But she’d be patient. Oh, yes, she would be good and patient.


	9. Chapter 9

Lucy was just practicing a few Croatian phrases, taking a break from grading the papers spread out all around her on the living room couch, when the phone rang.

Flynn was out working a job and Wyatt was with Joy that night, so she didn’t think she’d be hearing from either of them any time soon.

Huh, it was Amy.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lucy said, answering the phone. Her heart hammered in her chest even though she knew it was probably nothing, just Amy wondering if Lucy wanted to go out for drinks or something.

But she had asked Amy to go to her checkups with Jess instead of with Lucy because Lucy couldn’t take the heartbreak of knowing they failed. _Just tell me if we’re successful_ , she’d said. _Don’t tell me if it didn’t take or when you’re going in, or if you have to do it again. If you want to stop, then tell me and we’ll stop but otherwise only tell me if it’s positive, okay?_

She just couldn’t handle phone call after phone call, check up after check up, waiting and waiting. She’d rather just get one phone call and have that be the end of it either way.

“Hey.” Amy’s voice was soft. Lucy could hear Jess in the background, ordering what sounded like fast food from a drive thru window. “Are you sitting down?”

“Um, yes, yes I am.” Her heart was racing now and she had to struggle to keep her breathing deep and even. She wasn’t quite succeeding.

When Amy next spoke, Lucy could hear her sister’s smile. “Congratulations, Lucy. I’m pregnant. You guys are gonna have a baby.”

Lucy nearly dropped the phone. Her fingers were numb.

“Lucy?” Amy asked. “Lucy? You with me?”

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m—I’m here. Amy—Amy are you—are you sure, are you—”

“We’re sure,” Amy assured her. “We’re getting take out to celebrate. Mason has the best of the best, they say it’s healthy, everything’s normal. I’m about eight weeks along, actually. I, uh, didn’t want to tell you earlier in case something went wrong, y’know, along the way but yeah. You’re gonna have a baby. Yours and Flynn’s.”

Lucy felt something warm sliding down her cheeks and realized she was crying. “Amy, Amy thank you, thank you so much, I can’t ever—we can’t ever repay you for this.”

“You don’t have to, Lucy. We’re family. I’m happy to do this.”

Lucy wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I love you. Not just because of this but I thought—I thought it needed repeating. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go tell that useless boy of yours.”

“I will. Tell Jess to drive safe.”

“Oh, she will,” Amy said with a laugh. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Lucy hung up, then stared at the phone.

They were going to be parents.

_They were going to be parents._

This called for a celebration.

She practiced the phrase for a good half an hour, trying to get it just right. Maybe this wasn’t how others would celebrate the news that their surrogate was successfully pregnant, but it was how she planned to.

The key turned in the lock and Lucy’s head shot up. She shoved her laptop to the side as Flynn entered, taking off his jacket. “Wyatt still with Joy?”

“All night I think, yeah,” she replied. “Jess and Amy are going to have a night at Amy’s just by themselves, to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” Flynn asked, taking off his shoes. “Celebrate what?”

Lucy couldn’t hold in her smile any longer. “Garcia… she’s pregnant.”

It took a moment for it to register. Flynn stared at her, looking a bit dumbfounded—and then he stumbled back as if struck, his eyes wide, and then he was across the room and scooping her up and whirling her around and she had to catch her hands around his neck to keep her balance.

“It’s true?” he asked, grinning dazedly, breathless.

“Yes, yes, it’s true, she’s eight weeks pregnant, she waited to make sure nothing went wrong but she’s pregnant, we’re having a baby.” Lucy pressed her forehead to his. “We’re having a baby, Garcia.”

Flynn kissed her, the kind of kiss that stole the breath right out of her lungs. “ _Moja draga, moja draga žena_ ,” he whispered. Flynn didn’t descend into full Croatian often—usually just _draga_ , a common endearment. But now his voice was thick with emotion, and Lucy felt herself ready to cry all over again.

They’d wanted this for so long. And she was still a bit scared that something might go wrong. But Amy was healthy. Mason’s doctors were the best. The pregnancy had taken.

They were going to be parents.

“Garcia.” She took his face in her hands as he kissed her again and again, laughing a little. “Garcia.” She took a deep breath. “ _Odvedi me u krevet i jebi me_.”

Flynn stared at her for a beat, like he hadn’t actually heard her. Oh, God, had she said it wrong?

“You… did you just… ask me to fuck you in Croatian?” he asked.

“Yes?” Or, well, she hoped she had.

Flynn stared at her for a moment more, that dumbfounded look still on his face. Lucy fumbled. “I—I’ve been practicing phrases and stuff, here and there, just little things, and y’know I thought, dirty talk, it would be fu—”

The rest of what she said was cut off as Flynn kissed her, this time with a considerable amount of fire. Lucy moaned, opening her mouth, letting him sink his teeth, his tongue, everything into her. She dug her the pads of her fingers into his shoulders, massaging, as his hand slid up her back under her shirt, fingers splayed wide, digging in, keeping her pressed against him.

She was about to ask him again, to demand in English this time, hell in French if that was what it took, but then Flynn walked her over and she felt her ass connect with the kitchen table and hell yes, it had been forever since they’d been stupid and reckless like teenagers and ridiculously fucked on the furniture.

They couldn’t stop kissing, and it reminded her of the last few sessions they’d had when she was undercover, how they’d both been terrified of losing each other and losing this intimacy but not knowing how to say it, and so they’d just kissed and kissed and kissed frantically until the last second, clinging, desperate. Except now that it was happiness and not fear fueling them, and Lucy knew that she’d never lose him.

She was regretting wearing pants as Flynn tried to work them off without moving away from her at all. She had to push at his chest until he got the message and then undo them herself, laughing, but she let Flynn finish pulling them off her and kiss up her legs, nipping at the inside of her knee, making her nearly kick him because he knew she was ticklish there, dammit.

Getting his suit off took a little bit of work as well, but it was worth it for the bare skin she could now bite at, get her hands on, mark up all over again.

Flynn got his hand in her hair, tugging—not to control her but just to give her the sensation she loved—as she slid her mouth down his chest, tugging lightly on his nipple with her teeth. She could feel him hard between her legs, and he knew she wanted that, the bastard, because he was taking his damn sweet time with his fingers between her legs, teasing, not spreading her open like she needed.

“You’re an asshole,” she murmured, although the effect was somewhat damaged by the fact that she had a mouthful of his shoulder in her mouth as she spoke.

Flynn just chuckled, two fingers finally sliding into her. “If I really wanted to be an asshole I’d tell you that your pronunciation—”

Lucy grabbed the base of his cock, hard.

Flynn made a strangled noise. “—was perfect.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said sweetly, kissing his jaw.

God, it had been so long since they’d just fucked frantically together, ripping clothes off, and she loved it. She got her hands in Flynn’s hair and pulled him down, his hands on her thighs to spread her legs, trying to steal every breath from his mouth as he slid into her with one hard thrust.

He never would’ve done that when they first started sleeping together, worried about hurting her, but she’d proven to him that she could take it. That she wanted that bit of edge.

Flynn braced his hands on the table and Lucy tugged on his lip with her teeth, biting down just a little. “I want to feel it tomorrow,” she whispered, her hands petting his hair back out of his eyes.

Well, her husband was always very good about doing what he was told.

Lucy cried out, her back bowing, and she would’ve done it again when he thrust into her a second time but Flynn got an arm around her back to hold her in place so he could kiss her and all of her noises were swallowed by him. She sucked on his tongue, yanking at his hair, clawing at his shoulders, wanting everything he could give her and more.

They weren’t going to be able to do stupid shit like this once they had a kid—once they were _parents_ —they had to get their fun in while they could, right? Couldn’t have mini Preston-Flynn coming downstairs and asking what Mama and Daddy were doing in the kitchen.

Which meant she had about seven months to be as recklessly sexual as she damn well wanted.

She thrust her hips up into him, meeting his every stroke, wanting to taste him in the back of her goddamn throat, shivering with that electric feeling that buzzed in her blood, drove her ever higher. Her blouse was still mostly on, for crying out loud, and they’d never managed to get Flynn’s tie off and his pants were still around his ankles and it made her want to laugh if only she’d been able to stop moaning for a few seconds.

Flynn’s hand slid down to grip the meat of her thigh, holding her to him, and Lucy grabbed his hand, covered it with hers, squeezed tightly. She could feel him shudder at that, and she grinned against his mouth. He was a sucker for soft affection.

Good thing she was too.

After all this time she knew when Flynn was close, knew when he was starting to struggle to keep a steady rhythm. She moved her hand down between her legs, found her clit, rubbed hard and mercilessly, her fingers slick, watching his cock slide in and out of her—they were fucking on the kitchen table like it was their honeymoon all over again and they were going to have a baby and she loved him so goddamn much and _fuck_ she was close so close and it was wonderful and ridiculous all at once—

She came with a breathless giggle as the two of them made an absolute mess of the kitchen table.

As they got their breath back she felt Flynn’s smile against her mouth. “What are you laughing at,” he teased.

“Life,” she replied, lazily looping her arms around his neck. She kissed him with a soft hum. “Just all of it.”

They needed to clean up and eat dinner, she had papers to grade, she wanted to ask Flynn about his day. It was almost surreal.

She laughed again, and kissed her husband again, and again, and again, and again.

 

* * *

 

Once Joy was tucked in bed, her ladybug nightlight turned on and her stuffed walrus Mookie securely in her arms and the Enya soundtrack playing because Jess had gotten Joy to the point where she wouldn’t fall asleep unless that was playing, Wyatt went into the living room, got himself a cup of coffee, and pulled out the kink forms.

He figured he’d look at that first, and then try the self bondage, because if he did it the other way around he’d be way too tired to fill out a form.

Jesus Christ he’d had no idea so many kinks existed in this world.

Some things he had to look up and immediately wished he hadn’t. Thank God for incognito mode or his search history would’ve been forever tainted.

Lucy’s form was very neatly filled out, occasionally with some explanations. For example under _Double Penetration_ she’d written, _yes as in two in the place where dicks are supposed to go, I have a whole contraption that’s designed to stretch, we are not putting anything in the place that is not designed to stretch, no thank you._

Made sense.

Although, that was the other problem looking at these forms. His imagination would wander.

Him and Flynn inside of her—feeling Flynn’s cock against his, the sensation of Lucy around him—holy shit.

Right, right, Wyatt, focus.

Lucy’s form was very simple, she marked everything, and even gave small explanations when she seemed to feel a simple word wasn’t enough of a description. She explained proper spanking technique, for crying out loud.

Someone had clearly gone into professor mode for this.

Flynn’s form, on the other hand.

Golden Showers: _don’t fucking ask, Wyatt, just don’t ask. Preserve your innocence._

Public Sex: _Do I look like I can afford to get arrested?_

Medical Play: _I’m not a doctor._

Fisting: _Why Lucy wants to risk bodily harm I will never know._

Tattooing: _If you want to go get a tattoo from a certified legal professional then don’t let me stop you._

Flogging: _Sorry I don’t remember signing up to be a pirate._

Electrical Play: _According to the Geneva Conventions…_

Face Slapping: _You can try it but I can’t be responsible for what my fist does in response._

It looked like neither of them were into the more… extreme things that made Wyatt’s throat close up in a panic. He didn’t want his body pierced or anything, and branding? What the actual fuck?

Some things he already knew he wanted. Spanking, yeah. Being ordered around, yeah. The breathplay…

Flynn’s hand around his throat, squeezing, rhythmic, his voice in Wyatt’s ear, _you breathe when I say you can_ , or the collar, Lucy tightening it, making it just hard enough to draw breath, kissing him nice and long so that his lungs burned…

Wyatt shifted, his pants tight. Okay, so yeah. Yeah he was into that.

Lucy on her form was helpful enough to detail how that worked and to draw a little diagram. She was apparently into doing it for others, but not having it done on herself. Flynn, on the other hand, was good with it being done on himself or doing it on others.

Other things made him… curious. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them, but maybe that was because he’d never thought about them before. The temperature play, for instance. He hadn’t thought about that. But Lucy dragging an ice cube down his chest, making him shiver, her warm mouth sucking the cool water off his skin… He would be okay with trying that. Sure.

He didn’t really want anything fancy. Being tied to a bed was fine, he didn’t need equipment. And suspension just sounded like a recipe for disaster. He noticed that Flynn simply had a terse _no_ next to handcuffs but was perfectly fine with rope or cuffs or silk ties.

Wyatt had a feeling he knew why.

Lucy was not at all submissive, but liked name calling. _I can work it into my dominance if that helps_ , she wrote. _Ordering you to call me slut instead of ma’am or mistress, for example._

Holy shit, that was an image. He was getting quite a lot of images from this.

She’d also written, _on the flip side I’d like to call you names. You like it when I call you my pretty boy, I think. Which works seeing as you are rather pretty. Especially when you’re all desperate for me._

The coffee jerked in his hand and some of it spilled on the form. Fuck.

Okay, yeah, he liked that.

Flynn wasn’t into being spanked with anything other than a person’s hand or anywhere other than his ass—again, Wyatt had a feeling he knew why. The same reasons Wyatt himself wasn’t all that into the idea of being hit with a belt. Between his dad and the horror stories in the army…

Oh Jesus but apparently Flynn was okay with being penetrated, which he should’ve thought about but hadn’t and he remembered what Lucy had said about ordering Wyatt to bend over and having Flynn fuck him but what about the other way around and oh holy fuck…

He had to put the form down and breathe for a damn second.

At the bottom of Lucy’s form, under Additional Notes, she’d written:

_Remember that whatever we’re into you have no obligation to be into it too. And be sure to note if it’s something you want to work up to or something you want to do right away. We want you to have fun and we can’t do that if you lie to please us._

At the bottom of Flynn’s, he’d written:

_I’ll be honest. I’m a lot more careful with Lucy than I want to be with you. I’d never choke her but I want to choke you. I can’t call her the names she wants but I’d call you a hell of a lot of things. I marked stuff on here that I’m comfortable doing with/to you, because I like the idea of being rougher with you._

Fuck if that didn’t make him press the heel of his hand against his cock. He wanted Flynn to be rough with him, wanted Flynn to shove him against the wall or force him to his knees, tell him to get on all fours—

Wyatt grabbed his own form and a pen. Lucy had been so kind as to do hers over in pencil and then in pen, he could still see the pencil underneath and some eraser marks. But he wasn’t quite that thorough and he didn’t intend to include diagrams, so.

He took a bracing sip of coffee and started.

Being recorded? He trusted Flynn and Lucy so if they wanted that he didn’t mind, so long as it was on an actual DVD or CD and not on somebody’s Cloud that could be hacked.

Dominant or submissive? Once upon a time he would’ve lied and said dominant but. He was pretty sure Flynn and Lucy already knew the answer to this one.

It looked like what Lucy and Flynn wanted, he pretty much wanted, aside from the things like filming or temperature play where he didn’t really have a huge opinion. Neither of them were really into pain and he wasn’t either, and he didn’t want a whole bunch of fancy equipment. Vibrators, totally fine. He shifted a little on the couch, glanced at Joy’s closed bedroom door, and squeezed himself through his pants, just once, okay twice, thinking about Lucy sliding a vibrator into him or—or Flynn with a vibrating ring on—

Whatever safe word and safe signal (in the case of gagging) they decided on was fine by him. He was okay with—more than okay with—being gagged, or blindfolded, on top of being tied down.

Sex positions? He didn’t really have a favorite.

Any preferred kind of aftercare? Looked like Flynn got skin hungry and Lucy liked massaging her subs… after sex Wyatt usually just wanted to clean himself off, sleep if he was really worn out. Whatever they wanted to do, whether that was cuddle or watch a movie or whatever, was fine by him. He wasn’t going to say no to being pampered.

His hand trembled a little as he marked that he wanted to be collared. He wasn’t into pet play, exactly. He didn’t want to eat out of a goddamn dog bowl or bark. But the collar part…

He wasn’t into getting arrested for sex in a park, either, but he did make a note: _would wear collar in public so long as it’s hidden_.

Going about his day with it on, catching every time he took a deep breath, tightening, reminding him of what was waiting—only Lucy and Flynn knowing what was going on, knowing how desperate he was for them, his cock half-hard all day—coming to their place and finally, finally getting to beg and be held down and thoroughly _fucked_.

He put a couple more notes here and there. No handcuffs, just like Flynn, spanked yes but only with a hand and not with a whip or anything, discipline preferred through acts of service or forced orgasms…

A little humiliation was fine, like being told he was greedy, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be called the kind of names that Lucy did. Being called their plaything though…

When he got to the end, he took a deep breath, then another, then another.

Then he wrote, under Additional Notes:

_I want to please you guys. I want to do what you like and you want. That’s what really turns me on is you two being in control. Maybe it’s being in the closet for so long about my sexuality and about what I want in sex but I liked to be tied down and I liked to feel like I’m being used a little but I also like being praised and told I’m good for doing this. Take that to a therapist if you feel like it._

He compiled all the papers together and stuck them back inside the folder Lucy had given him, then stuck that in the briefcase he hardly ever used. Joy couldn’t read yet so he wasn’t worried about her, but God help him if Jess saw it before he’d explained to her what was going on.

…he still had to do that, actually.

Now he was goddamn hard in his pants and had been for half an hour while he filled this damn thing out, he had rope, he knew how to use it, and he had more fantasy fodder than he knew what to do with.

When he peeked into Joy’s room she was still sound asleep. The CD had long run out, and she was just spread out like a starfish and breathing deep and even.

Wyatt’s heart swelled the way it always did when he looked at his daughter. All the shit he’d been through with Jess was worth it for her.

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to get interrupted, he closed the door, went into his own bedroom, then closed and locked that door as well.

Getting undressed for, well, masturbating had never been particularly exciting. You just didn’t want to get spunk all over your clothes. But now there was a tingle of anticipation to it, every brush of the fabric or his hands against his body reminding him of what he was doing. What he was about to do.

Lucy hadn’t told him what to do along with the bondage, but she must have assumed he’d use a dildo or vibrator because the position, while it kept his hands in front of him, didn’t give him enough room to reach down and touch his cock.

He couldn’t stop imagining the idea of her telling him _no, you’re coming without that, you’re coming just like this, untouched._

_Yes, ma’am._

_And why are you going to do that?_

_Because you told me, ma’am._

Wyatt nearly forgot how to breathe, thinking about that.

He got one of the dildos out, the medium one, and prepared himself. It didn’t feel as good as when Flynn or Lucy did it, when there were hands on him that didn’t belong to him, but it still feels good and it gets the job done and he couldn’t well do this once he’d got himself trussed up.

Every time he tied the rope around his ankle or wrist his breath hitched. Fuck. Yes. Okay. This was—this was what he’s been imagining for months, only it was Lucy and Flynn doing it to him…

Once he was all tied up with nowhere to go, he rolled over and got the remote between his hands. Convenient, and he was never, ever going to tell Stacy that she was right in recommending he get said remote.

The restraints were holding when he tested them, and that sent a huge shiver up his spine. Although he could actually _undo_ them if he wanted, he wasn’t going to get out of this just by yanking, which was what his goal had been.

He pictured Lucy finishing up the knots. _You’ve been so greedy,_ she whispered in his ear, in his mind. _If you’re so desperate to come, baby, why didn’t you say so?_

Flynn sliding the dildo in… turning it on… Wyatt flicked it up halfway, biting down hard onto the pillow to muffle the noise that shot out of his throat. Oh, God, oh _God_ …

 _We’ll be back in an hour,_ he imagined Lucy saying. _And you can just come as much as you’d like._

Just being made to come over and over and over, unable to take it out, unable to make it stop, and they wouldn’t really leave him, just make him think they had, they’d be watching, probably getting off to it on their own while he just writhed and was wrung dry, until he was begging, saying he couldn’t take it, but in the back of his mind he’d know Lucy knew his limits, she’d take care of it when it was time, she wouldn’t push him too far, just enough, just enough to leave him sobbing with how good, how _much_ …

He jerked, his cock rubbing against the mattress, pressure that was a lot, a hell of a lot, but not quite enough, the vibrations traveling up his whole body, his spine, and the dildo was pressed right up against his prostate because he’d made sure it was, because Lucy and Flynn would make sure it was, and he bit the pillow so hard he thought he might tear it and he came to the thought of them watching him beg.

Should he have left it there? …probably. But he wanted to test himself, wanted to be sure, and he really, really liked the bondage, clearly, and he liked the _idea_ of being made to come again…

He turned the vibrations up all the way and just about screamed, holy mother of—oh _shit_ —he couldn’t think couldn’t function couldn’t—it was too much and oh holy—oh fuck—he was trying to move but the ropes were keeping him—restraining him—he couldn’t do anything but lie there and take it, helpless, while he whimpered and thrust mindlessly and came.

Wyatt flicked the remote off, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, shaking all over. He couldn’t even undo the ropes right away, his hands were shaking too badly. He had to give himself a minute as his heart raced in his chest. Fuck, it almost hurt, but in a good, tired way, like after a long workout.

Slowly, his breathing and heart calmed down, and he could undo the ropes, take the toy out of his ass, sit up. He basically stumbled to the shower and had to change the sheets, only checking on Joy once he was somewhat presentable.

She was still soundly, happily asleep. Excellent.

Wyatt put everything away and collapsed into bed. Holy fucking shit. He’d never come so hard in his life before.

Yeah, yeah he definitely wanted to be tied up, wanted Lucy and Flynn in control, wanted all of it. And once he told them that, he knew, he just knew they’d give it to him. They’d take care of him, make him feel even better than he did right now just doing it on his own.

…he couldn’t wait for tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

Wyatt started the day feeling pretty good. He woke up aching a little but in that pleasant, fun kind of way. He texted Lucy, saying he’d done the self-restraints and felt it was something he wanted to do.

She replied almost immediately, asking if he was free for the day—apparently Flynn wasn’t going into work and she didn’t have classes.

Hell yes, he was free.

He hopped in the shower, got dressed, gave Joy a piggyback ride into the living room… and that was about when he stopped feeling pretty good.

Because Jess was staring at a bunch of papers in her hand, his briefcase open on the kitchen table.

She looked up as he entered with Joy, who shrieked. “Mama!”

He set her down and Joy dashed over. “Mama, Mama, zoo today?”

“Yes, honey, I did promise,” Jess said, petting her daughter’s hair. She looked up at Wyatt. “So. I wanted to use the briefcase to an investor’s meeting for the bar, look professional and all that and like I know what the fuck I’m doing and… I found these.”

Wyatt could feel himself going red in the face. “Uh. Yeah. So. I have something to tell you.”

“Is this Flynn’s handwriting?” Jess asked, waving, oh God, Flynn’s kink form in her hand.

“…yes.”

Jess looked over the papers, her eyebrows steadily rising. “You said that you three were just friends.”

“We were.” Wyatt hurried over, snatching the papers out of her hands and clutching them like a goddamn life raft in a hurricane. “When you asked me, we were just. Friends. This is really new.”

“So when you wanted to join in the conversation about dildos…”

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “This is not how I wanted you to find out. I wanted… I wanted to tell you.”

“I didn’t want you to find out about Amy and me by finding her on my lap but life has a way of laughing at us.” Jess got out some food for Joy, who scrambled up into her chair.

“So. Uh. I realized, a while ago, that I was bi and that I was in—that I had—that I’m attracted to Flynn.”

“Mmm. This wouldn’t be when Flynn and Lucy had to do their whole undercover sex thing, would it?”

“…yes?”

Jess made a _go on_ gesture.

“Right.” Wyatt cleared his throat. “So I didn’t think they’d ever… but they told me they’re interested, that they want… they want me.”

He looked up into Jess’s face, realizing this was the first time he’d said this out loud. _They want me._ Somehow, impossibly, they wanted to include him in this. And sex was intimate enough, but this was even… even more so, the amount of trust they were showing in telling him all of their desires and all the things they were and weren’t okay with, it was mind boggling. Wyatt wasn’t even sure that he deserved it.

Jess’s gaze softened. “And so they had you fill this out so that you’re all on the same page?”

Wyatt nodded. “I wanted to… educate myself on how it all works, and so I was starting to do that but now that I’ve read these I’m realizing just how little I know.”

“You’re nervous,” Jess proclaimed dryly, putting Joy’s food in front of her and kissing the top of her head.

“Of course I’m nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never even been with—never with a guy and not even… in your timeline I might’ve screwed around but in my timeline I was a shit husband but I was a loyal one, I haven’t slept with anyone except you and then Lucy that one time. I mean, what if I’m not… okay so I already slept with them a couple times and they seemed to like it? I mean, they want to keep doing this and I’m not hearing any complaints but…” He was rambling now and he knew it. “What if they’re just keeping me around because they hope I’ll get good at it, maybe that’s why they want me to fill this out so they can get me to actually be fucking good at—well—fucking—oh God.”

He looked down at Joy. “Don’t repeat that.”

Joy, who had been lining up her Cheerios in a marching order, paused and looked up at him. “Repeat what?”

“Exactly.” He looked back at Jess who was standing with her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly amused. “I want… to be good for them.”

Jess snorted. “Wyatt, look, I’m not an expert on BDSM or whatever but you always liked sex better when I was in charge. You were better at sex when I was telling you what to do. Even my just being on top it was better. I don’t think you’re bad at it, I think that you’re bad at it the way you’re bad at everything when you’re forcing yourself to do something you don’t want to do or in a way you don’t want to do it. If they’re encouraging you to do what you want, how you want, then I don’t think you have to worry about it. It’s that whole thing about how happy employees are good employees, that shit’s repeated for a reason.”

Wyatt gently folded the papers and tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans. He wanted to ask if she was just saying that to be nice, but Jess wasn’t that kind of person—especially when it came to him. She’d never had a problem being as blunt as she needed to be.

“Besides,” Jess went on, her voice achingly gentle, “it’s Lucy and Flynn. You’ve seen how they are together. You think they’d let just anyone in on that? You think Flynn would let just anyone touch Lucy, or that Lucy would let just anyone be with Flynn? If they want this with you then they’ve thought a long time about it.”

That was… true, yes, definitely true. Lucy and Flynn were desperately, shockingly in love and Wyatt couldn’t imagine either of them letting some stranger or casual acquaintance touching the other in an intimate way. One time the regular pizza delivery guy had gotten flirty with Flynn and the look on Lucy’s face had been absolutely terrifying (Flynn, of course, had been oblivious).

“I did want to tell you,” he added. “I just… I was going to, but I wanted to make sure this was really a thing and then you found… well.”

“It’s still pretty brand new, huh?”

Wyatt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a bit of a hypocrite, not telling you right away after I got angry with you about Amy. I’m sorry. I should’ve been more understanding.”

“Maybe. It’s hard to talk about this kind of thing when you’ve never done it before.” Jess smirked. “Bisexuality, polyamory, and BDSM? You just go all in, don’t you?”

Wyatt shrugged. “You know me. Zero to one hundred.”

“Just don’t get hurt, cowboy.” Jess refilled Joy’s water cup. “All right, well, have fun playing kinky sex games…”

“Jess!” Wyatt hissed, his gaze darting down to their _toddler_.

Jess laughed. “She doesn’t know what it means and she won’t make a big deal unless you do. Amy and I are taking her to the zoo today, so we’ll be out but if you need anything text me.”

“Yeah, no problem, I don’t think I’ll be here tonight, actually. If, uh, if that’s okay.” He didn’t want to sleep alone again, if Lucy and Flynn were okay with it, he wanted to sleep with their warmth, with Lucy’s soft laugh against his throat and her thick dark hair tangled around his fingers and Flynn’s strong arm around him and Flynn’s heartbeat in his ear.

Jess smirked. “Remember to stretch before strenuous exercise.”

“Ha, ha.”

…oh shit, the rope he’d borrowed.

In what was probably the most embarrassing moment of his life, he had to actually carry that past his ex-wife so he could get out the front door.

Jess, at least, was kind enough to wait until he’d left before bursting out into laughter, even if she was loud enough to be heard down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

Lucy examined herself in the mirror. “Garcia?”

“Hmm?” Flynn was stretched out on the bed, looking at cribs online. He looked up. “What?”

Lucy gestured at herself. Or, more specifically, at the black corset she was wearing. “Do you like the black or the red better? I got both thinking I’d send one back…”

Flynn stared for a long moment. “…if you’re looking for a coherent answer I can’t really promise that.”

“Go with your gut.”

“…my gut says some very inappropriate things.”

“You are no help.”

There was the sound of the front door opening—it really had been a fantastic idea to give Wyatt a key—and Lucy grabbed the red corset. “I’ll ask Wyatt what he thinks.”

“If Wyatt is able to say anything longer than one syllable, I will be shocked.”

Lucy ignored him, walking downstairs to where Wyatt was taking off his jacket, the rope she’d given him in his hand. He turned as he heard her—and dropped the rope on the floor.

“Hey there.” Lucy walked right up to him, draped her arms over his shoulders, and kissed him hello. Wyatt kissed her back, then went back to gaping once she pulled away. “So, do you like it in black?” She held up the red corset. “Or red?”

Wyatt made a strangled noise.

“Wait,” Flynn called from upstairs, “why do you have to choose? Why aren’t you keeping both?”

“He’s got a point,” Wyatt managed as he struggled valiantly to keep his eyes focused on her face.

“Honey, we’re sleeping together, you’re allowed to look at my cleavage.”

Wyatt flushed, then reached behind himself to pull something out of his back pocket. “I, uh, filled this out,” he said, handing her the kink forms. “And looked at the ones you two had.”

Lucy took the forms from him, flipping through them. “Mmm… C’mere. Garcia will want to look at these.”

She took Wyatt by the belt loop and led him back upstairs. When they entered the bedroom Wyatt made a helpless gesture at her.

Flynn just shrugged as if to say _what do you want from me_.

“He filled it out,” Lucy announced, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Flynn immediately put the laptop aside to read over her shoulder. Wyatt stood there nervously, shuffling back and forth.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Come here.”

Wyatt went at once, sitting down next to her.

Flynn idly kissed the back of Wyatt’s neck and then went back to reading the form. Mmm. This was very interesting.

To Lucy’s pleasure it looked like Wyatt was open to trying the things that they liked and wanted to be submissive to them. She smirked when she saw that he wanted to be spanked, wasn’t surprised that he said no to pain, but…

Oh.

She looked up at Wyatt. “You’d like a collar?” she purred.

He’d look so very pretty in one, sleek black leather, perhaps, like the one she had for Flynn. Matching collars… now there was an idea. She reached out, wrapping her hand lightly around his neck, her thumb stroking up and down the hollow of his throat.

Wyatt swallowed, and she could feel the movement beneath her hand. “Yes,” he croaked.

“And it says here you’d wear it in public so long as it was hidden. Would you really do that?”

Wyatt nodded, like he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“He wants you to choke him,” she whispered to Flynn, leaning in so that her lips brushed her husband’s jaw. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Flynn growled slightly, involuntarily. Lucy laughed. Oh, teasing these boys was far too much fun.

“I tried the… the bondage, too,” Wyatt managed, his voice rough. “It was—I want it, I want for you two to do that to me.”

“Is that so? You’re sure?” Lucy leaned in, brushing her lips against his.

Wyatt nodded. “Yes, yes ma’am.”

“Mmm. And what did you think about, all tied up like that? Helpless and desperate for it? Did you wish we were there to take care of you? Make you feel good?”

Wyatt made a helpless kind of whimpering noise. “I—I imagined—I thought about—” He was blushing like a fire hydrant.

Flynn ran a hand through Wyatt’s hair, which seemed to soothe him a little. “There’s no shame here,” Lucy whispered. “You can say whatever you want. We won’t laugh or judge you.”

Wyatt swallowed. “I imagined that you two tied me up, and touched me everywhere you wanted to. That you—I had my, uh, my vibrator in and it has a remote so I used that, and pretended it was you two, and made myself come twice, pretending you’d—you’d ordered me to, that I had to come as many times as you told me, that I was tied up and couldn’t do anything, couldn’t touch myself, I just had to take it and come untouched like that while you watched me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Flynn growled, and Lucy shifted out of the way as Flynn tightened his hold in Wyatt’s hair and tugged him in to kiss him.

Lucy sucked on her bottom lip, watching as the two men kissed, fierce and devoted. The only thing better than getting to kiss one of them was getting to see the two of them go at each other.

“I think we’re getting distracted,” she said, putting a hand on Flynn’s wrist and another on Wyatt’s shoulder.

Flynn pulled away, leaving Wyatt with his chest heaving and his eyes glazed, eyelids drooped. A perfect, stunned mess.

Lucy held up the kink forms. “So it looks from these like we’re all on the same page. You agreed with our hand signals and our safe word, and you seem to be into or willing to try the things that we’re into.”

Wyatt nodded.

Lucy flipped through the form again. “You’re okay with doing double penetration on me…”

“…God help us all…” Flynn muttered.

Lucy ignored him. She was going to have that happen, dammit, and unless Flynn decided it was a hard limit he was going to help her do it.

Then she got to the names.

“ _Plaything_?” she purred. Oh, the satisfaction she felt in reading that. Wyatt had written on his form that he liked being called greedy, liked a little bit of humiliation when he was being punished, but under names to be called he’d written:

_Whatever you want to call me I think would be fine. You gave a couple suggestions in your form and I liked those and I trust you. I like being told I’m good, I like the boy… I think I’d like you to use. I like pet and plaything._

There were marks with the pen before those words, as if he’d pressed the pen into the paper but had hesitated before writing them.

Lucy felt heat pooling between her legs. Oh, yes, this was wonderful.

“Yes,” she confirmed, looking up at him. “You are our plaything, aren’t you? And a good one at that.”

Wyatt’s face went bright pink and she could see him shifting, trying not to make it obvious that he was getting hard in his pants.

Lucy smirked and finished reading the form. “I think we’re all on the same page here. But one last thing.”

Wyatt blinked, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

Lucy looked over at Flynn. “Darling, do me a favor and get the supplies?”

Flynn knew that tone. He nodded, and she could see the submissive part of him starting to come into the fore, the part that made her feel so very satisfied, like nothing else in this world. He got up and went over to get the box from the closet.

Lucy turned back to Wyatt. “We want to give you a demonstration of what a typical scene will look like. Sometimes it won’t be quite this structured or elaborate. But I like to dress up sometimes and we like to be a little more into it, and for today to show you how it is when we’re more formal about it, that’s what we’re doing.”

“You’re going to watch us have sex, Wyatt,” Flynn said, as if Wyatt couldn’t figure that out for himself.

Wyatt glared at him. “Thanks, Garcia,” he said dryly.

Lucy laughed, pulling back. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to take off your clothes, and you’re going to sit right here.” She indicated her very comfy desk chair. “And you’re going to watch us, and you’re not going to touch yourself at all. I could tie you up for this, but we’re going to start working on discipline so I’m going to trust that you’ll follow my orders. No touching yourself, not even pinching a nipple or running your hand through your hair. All right?”

Wyatt nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to do whatever I damn well please to Flynn and have him do a bunch of very lovely things to me. And when I’m satisfied, if you’ve both been very good, then I will let you two come. Is that fair?”

Wyatt nodded again.

Lucy looked over at Flynn, who had the box of toys. She smirked.

Time for the fun to begin.

 

* * *

 

Flynn held still as Lucy got up and Wyatt got undressed, quickly and dutifully, and sat down in the chair. When Lucy was satisfied she walked over to Flynn, that beautiful, confident smirk turning up the corners of her mouth.

He’d do anything with that look on her face. Or, well, with any look on Lucy’s face, to be honest.

Lucy took the box from him, pulling out the timer, the vibrator ring, and the collar, all while keeping eye contact with him.

Flynn swallowed. This was going to be a hell of a session.

“If I pull out anything he can’t handle today,” Lucy explained to Wyatt softly, her eyes still locked onto Flynn’s, “this is his chance to veto it. I’m not taking away free will from you two.”

Flynn couldn’t always handle the vibrating ring if Lucy wanted him to hold off on coming. If she wanted to use it to force multiple orgasms out of him then by all means. But there were days when he knew he’d fail at holding back if she asked him, and so he’d veto one or the other.

But not today. He wanted to show Wyatt how it all worked, and he’d be good and not come until Lucy said so.

“Let’s put it this way,” Lucy said, putting the timer on the nightstand and the cock ring next to it, then picking up the collar. “You’re at the beginner level right now. Flynn’s had years of experience so he’s at expert level. So I’m going to be stricter on him and expect more from him than I will from you, but don’t worry.” She smiled at Wyatt. “We’ll work you up to it.”

Flynn could see Wyatt shifting in the chair, swallowing, a flush creeping down his bare chest. He wanted to march over and haul Wyatt to his feet, get his hands and mouth all over him, order Wyatt onto the bed, or pin him to the wall and just _fuck_ him good and proper. Sitting in the chair like that, not a stitch of clothing on him—it was like he hadn’t eaten all day and someone had put a goddamn buffet in front of him and told him he couldn’t eat.

But Lucy had a plan. And he trusted her plans.

Lucy reached up, sliding the collar around Flynn’s neck and locking it in. Flynn swallowed, feeling the tightness of it around him, and felt something inside of him both settle into place and click open, like the tumblers aligning so a lock could be turned.

Lucy got up onto her tiptoes and Flynn ducked his head so that she could kiss him, her hands framing his face. He didn’t reach out and touch her, as much as he wanted to, especially in her corset—he hadn’t been given permission.

“See how he doesn’t touch?” Lucy noted to Wyatt, because of course she’d noticed. She started undoing the buttons on Flynn’s shirt. “He knows not to do anything unless he’s given permission. Same with you. If I want you to do something, I’ll tell you that you can do it. Otherwise, don’t.”

Flynn saw Wyatt nod, but Lucy couldn’t see that. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes ma’am,” Wyatt said quickly.

Lucy winked at Flynn, then pushed his shirt off his shoulders and started with his pants. “I want you to finish this,” she instructed, pushing his pants down and turning to grab the box again, “and then put your hands behind your back.”

…yeah, it was going to be a hell of a session. “Yes, ma’am.”

He made short work of the rest of his clothes as Lucy got the silk ties. Flynn put his hands behind his back, one wrist crossed over the other, and Lucy gently wound the ropes around and over and through, until she could tie a proper knot and secure them.

“I always have him test the hold on the ties,” she explained to Wyatt. “Test, please?”

Flynn tugged on the restraints, then nodded. Lucy smiled, kissing him on the shoulder, then moved his clothes out of the way for him.

“Garcia doesn’t use his full strength.” Lucy got onto the edge of the bed, sliding her underwear down her legs and tossing it to the side. “That is, he’s not actually trying to escape the ropes when he does that. He’s just testing to make sure they’re firm enough that the knot won’t come undone just by his moving around during the session. We always tie the ropes so that we can actually get out if we set our minds to it.”

Lucy lifted her leg up onto Flynn’s shoulder, digging her heel in. Flynn went down onto his knees, between her legs, and Lucy shifted so that her thigh was resting on his shoulder and her other leg was spread wide.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him into her. “Eat me until I come,” she ordered. “Then we’ll have some real fun, sound good sweetheart?”

Flynn turned his head, kissing the inside of her thigh. “Yes, ma’am.” Definitely.

Lucy laid back, lazily stroking her fingers through his hair as he slowly kissed up her thighs. He liked to take his time with her, and just because his hands were tied didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her. He sucked a dark mark into the skin just below her hipbone, always a little overenthusiastic about marking her—he couldn’t, really, when they were undercover, since Lucy’s other clients wouldn’t like the idea of her showing up to their session with evidence she’d been with other people. As if they wanted to maintain the ridiculous illusion that she was the only person they saw, that they were somehow special.

But now there was no one. No one but him, and anyone else they truly wanted to join them—anyone else they cared about, anyone else they trusted, anyone else they actually loved. So far there’d only been one, and frankly, Flynn wanted it to stay that way. He couldn’t think of anybody who would enter his heart and their lives, and he had no intention of sharing Lucy or Wyatt.

And he could put as many damn marks on them as he wanted.

Lucy tugged on his hair a little, trying to urge him to get to the main event, but unless she ordered him to do it right now, he wasn’t going to.

“You’re such a little… shit…” Lucy gasped out as he finally flicked his tongue over her clit, just the once, before focusing on her folds, twisting his tongue into her, continuing the tease.

Flynn just hummed in response, and then pulled back again, prompting Lucy to give a frustrated whine. Fuck, he wanted to put his hands on her, to hold her hips down, to slide his hands under her thighs, to tangle his fingers with hers, even reach up and palm a breast—but he couldn’t, his shoulders straining slightly with each tug and shift, feeling the rope around his wrists and sending a new thrill him each time.

At last he put his mouth exactly where she wanted, and Lucy moaned—partially for his own benefit, he knew, he liked to hear her.

Over his shoulder, he heard Wyatt make a strangled noise and he grinned against Lucy’s slick, sensitive skin, knowing that Wyatt was losing his mind watching, unable to touch either them or himself.

“C’mon, Garcia,” Lucy managed in between sharp, deep inhales. “Finish me off, darling, go on.”

Well, now, that was an order. Flynn kissed the soft skin of her lower stomach, then slid his mouth lower, working her clit properly. Lucy made a soft little _ah_ noise, arching, practically shoving herself up into his face and Flynn nearly choked a little laughing, sucking and licking until she spilled over, shaking around him, against him.

“Perfect, perfect,” Lucy praised, letting go of her death grip on his hair and petting him gently. Fuck, he was so goddamn hard, aching, wanting her to touch him, wanting to touch her, wanting _anything_ …

Lucy sat up, her face beautifully flushed, her breasts heaving against the corset, a thin line of sweat along her hairline. “Stand up, handsome.”

Her leg slid off his shoulder as he stood, his knees aching a little. Lucy twirled her finger indicating for him to turn around, and then he felt slim fingers undoing the ties, gently massaging his fingers, then kissing the tips, his knuckles, his palms, his inner wrists.

“Turn around,” Lucy ordered softly.

Flynn did as he was told once again. Lucy was staring up at him with the kind of adoration that he’d once never noticed on her, blind to her affection, thinking she didn’t care. Now he saw it all the time and he could always only think— _God I’m the luckiest bastard alive._

“Undress me,” Lucy said, standing up and turning around.

As Flynn undid her corset, gently kissing along her spine as he did so, Lucy explained to Wyatt some more. “This is the part where I’d probably have you fuck me or do something else to get you off, but Flynn’s built up some patience so we’re going to play another game.”

Flynn helped her work the corset off, leaving her in nothing but her soft, warm skin. Lucy put her hands on her hips, winking at Wyatt, then turning to put a hand on Flynn’s chest. “Lie down on the bed.” She kissed the center of his chest, looking up at him through her lashes in that way that always made his knees weak.

He did as he was told, of course, while Lucy went and set the timer, then took the ties and the vibrator ring. “Hands above the head, please.”

Flynn put his hands up and Lucy redid the ties around his wrists and the slats of the headboard, letting him test the hold. Her hands slid down his arms, squeezing his biceps gently, before moving down to his chest, scratching, making him shudder.

“What should I do with you,” she mused aloud. “So many choices…”

She kissed his chest again, only this time continued, her mouth and hands mapping a path downward until she was between his legs. Flynn struggled to stay still, not to arch into her mouth, to keep his breathing deep and even despite wanting to arch up, to beg, to twist free.

“Remember,” she told him, although he knew it was for Wyatt’s benefit, “you don’t get to come until the timer goes off. You manage that, you get to come. You come too early, I’ll have to punish you.”

“I understand.”

“Very good.”

Lucy ran her mouth up the side of his cock, mouthing it, her tongue darting out to lap along the underside. Flynn bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, trying to stay still. Lucy was clearly getting her revenge for how he’d taken his time, lapping at the head, working the foreskin down and basically having the time of her life playing and not actually giving him any relief.

Flynn flicked his eyes over to Wyatt, hoping to get some kind of distraction before he lost his damn mind, but that didn’t help once he got a good look at him.

Wyatt was gripping the edges of the chair so hard the tips of his fingers and his knuckles were white, his chest and face flushed, his mouth slightly open and his chest heaving as he watched them with dark eyes, the blue impossible to see from this distance. Flynn couldn’t wait to touch him, to push him over the brink, and it gave him a hot thrill down his spine to know that Wyatt was so turned on, so desperate from this, just from watching.

He’d never been into exhibitionism before, or voyeurism, but then, this wasn’t just any random person. He liked it when Lucy touched herself for him, showed herself off, and he was always happy to do the same for her. And they still had those videos of themselves from the club, ones that they watched occasionally…

This was just an extension of that, he supposed. Showing yourself off for someone you trusted and cared about was different than doing it for strangers, or watching two strangers getting off.

Lucy must have noticed his distraction, because without warning she went from teasing him to sucking him down as far as she could.

Flynn groaned, jerking, keeping still as best he could when fuck, _fuck_ , all he wanted to do was thrust up into her mouth. Lucy had her hands firmly planted on Flynn’s thighs, holding him down, but he could have bucked her off if he really wanted to—she hadn’t tied his ankles down and he was still a lot stronger than she was. That wasn’t what mattered, though. What mattered was just the feeling of being held down, knowing that Lucy was putting literally everything into keeping him still and driving him crazy, the feeling of being taken and played with, toyed with, until he went out of his mind.

Lucy pulled off with a lewd almost slurping noise, which he knew, the smug shit, he knew she’d done it on purpose. The smirk she gave him immediately after just confirmed it.

He saw her glance at the timer, and oh, fuck, he had no idea how much time was left. Her mouth was bad enough, warm and soft, her lips firm, her tongue knowing exactly how to touch him and where—but being inside her while he had the goddamn ring on—

He really, really hoped there wasn’t too much time left.

Lucy worked the ring on, then got the lube and slicked him up. “Relax,” she reminded him.

Flynn realized he’d been tugging on the ties and forced himself to relax and go limp. Lucy kissed his stomach in approval, her hands moving slowly up and down his sides. “Good.”

She swung her leg over his hip, straddling him. She slipped two fingers into herself, quick and efficient, and Flynn just about lost his mind because he wanted to be the one doing that to her, he wanted to be the one stretching her…

Lucy made a bit of a show of it, just to tease him, moaning and throwing her head back, working her hips down onto her fingers.

Flynn growled involuntarily, wanting, wanting more than he could say even if he’d been allowed to beg, and Lucy gave a breathless smirk, tilting her head back down and withdrawing her fingers.

He could practically read her thoughts— _always good to know you want me, darling_ —and then she was shifting and positioning herself over him, and turning the goddamn ring on as she sank down onto him because she was his wife and the love of his life and his soulmate and he loved her with every fiber of his soul but she was also the biggest goddamn _menace_.

Flynn wasn’t sure who made more noise: Lucy giving a pleased little moan, Wyatt giving a desperate whimper, or himself as he grunted violently, his jaw clenching as his eyes nearly rolled back into his head. Holy shit, holy shit, this was why they didn’t do this often, this was why they kept it for special occasions, because it was all so much, nearly too much, the tight heat around him and the way Lucy moved at just the right speed and she was slick and perfect and the vibrations were just—there was no movement no escaping just—just sensation, he couldn’t think couldn’t even breathe—

It was all just sensation, feelings, unable to process unable to think, English fleeing, barely even able to retain Croatian, words just gone, heat and slick and Lucy, Lucy, _Lucy_. He had no idea what he was saying, if he was saying anything at all, alternately limp and jerking, completely at her mercy and at the mercy of the toy and all he could do was keep a stranglehold on his need to come. Even as he started to get addled and scrambled and forget why he had to keep such a hold on it, it gave him just enough to focus on, the rest of it all washing away, leaving him feeling stripped and raw and blissfully silent in his mind, no thinking, just feeling.

Lucy pressed down completely onto him, swiveling her hips, grinding, and he dimly heard the timer go off and Lucy was kissing him and ordering, “you heard it, go on, go on,” and he emptied himself and shook and went still.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was going to lose his sanity.

Watching Lucy order Flynn around like that, seeing just how in control she was, how completely Flynn gave himself up to her—it was like seeing their everyday bond but no longer muted, technicolor, all in its full, raw glory. Wyatt didn’t even know if they saw it, recognized it, how one hundred percent in Lucy’s hands Flynn was. The slump in his shoulders, the curve of his neck, the soft look on his face, the submissive curve of his body towards her. Flynn was a one man army but right now—it was like watching a Pitbull follow the orders of a kitten.

And Lucy—holy fuck. She didn’t snap or raise her voice, she was gentle as ever, but the sheer command in… in, well, everything about her… it was mesmerizing.

Wyatt couldn’t have looked away from this if he’d wanted to, if he’d tried.

His fingers ached from digging into the arms of the couch, his cock hard and leaking between his legs. He was certain that just a few touches would send him spiraling over the edge. He’d never been so goddamn turned on in his life, and had never held on for so long without doing something to relieve his need. This wasn’t just about watching them, he knew that, otherwise Lucy would’ve let him touch himself. This was about waiting for her order.

And dammit, he was going to see it through.

Flynn coming was like a goddamn revelation. Lucy came as well, and that was—holy shit. Watching Flynn go down on her had him biting the inside of his cheek so hard he bled, watching the long line of Lucy’s throat, the way her eyelids fluttered, her mouth opening in a round ‘o’ as she gasped and moaned—watching Flynn’s dark head moving between her legs, her hand tightening in his hair, her legs shaking—

But Flynn. Watching as he held out and held out and held out, as he stumbled and fell into incoherency, babbling in Croatian, getting to the point where he couldn’t talk at all, writhing helplessly as Lucy worked him like a goddamn fiddle—it was fucking gorgeous to watch and Wyatt loved it but God, he also wanted to _be_ that, wanted to be turned into that blissful mess by Lucy or Flynn or both.

After Flynn came—and Lucy came a second time—she switched off the ring and cleaned Flynn up, undoing his wrists at once. She massaged them, kissed them, then kissed him all over his face, murmuring endearments and praise. “You were so good,” she told him. “So very good, my love, you were perfect.”

Slowly, Flynn came back to himself, responding to her touch, returning her kisses. Lucy laughed into his mouth as he got bold and Wyatt’s heart swelled and cracked, watching them giggling and smiling together, touching each other, like even after all this time they were still discovering each other’s bodies anew.

Lucy turned, reaching out a hand for him, beckoning. “Come here, sweetheart. You were very good, too.”

Wyatt stood up, wobbling a little as he realized how shaky his legs were. Fuck, he could hardly walk, he was so fucking turned on.

Flynn sat up and moved over to the edge of the bed. Lucy kissed his shoulder. “Go ahead,” she whispered in Flynn’s ear, her eyes cutting over to Wyatt. “He’s been good for us.”

Flynn grabbed Wyatt by the wrist, yanking him in, an arm snaking around his waist. Wyatt braced himself on Flynn’s shoulders, kissing him, just that simple touch leaving him panting, the room too small and too hot, God he wanted, he needed—

He groaned into Flynn’s mouth as Flynn’s hand wrapped around his cock and he jerked violently. “Hey, hey,” Flynn said, soothing. He kissed him again.

Wyatt whined, helpless. “Please, please, please—” He didn’t want to, couldn’t, wait anymore, oh God he couldn’t wait—

“It’s okay,” Lucy soothed. She pushed herself up, using Flynn’s shoulder to brace for leverage as she kissed along Wyatt’s neck. “Go ahead, whenever you want.”

Flynn squeezed the base of his cock, then twisted his wrist and stroked up, his thumb swiping along the head, again and again, and Wyatt’s legs went limp and he nearly fell over as he came, vision going white around the edges.

“Fuck,” he croaked. “Fuck that was so hot, you two are so hot.”

“We like to think so,” Lucy replied with a smirk. She looked over at Flynn. “Why don’t you get a washcloth, clean this up, and then we can get him in front of the mirror?”

Wyatt just about choked on his own spit. “What?”

“Oh, you thought we were done?” Lucy asked. She kissed him softly. “Not at all. We’re just getting started.”


	11. Chapter 11

Wyatt’s face when Lucy told him they were just getting started was priceless.

Flynn was a little nervous about pushing Wyatt too far, but then, he’d never really been in this position before—this position of dominance, of helping to be in charge. Sure, he’d done more dominant things when his partners had asked. Lucy liked to be tied up every once in a while, and he’d touch her all over until she was practically hissing like a spitting cat wanting him to properly fuck her. That had always clearly been a service, though, him following her orders. And sometimes pinning his partners down or picking them up (Lorena had especially liked that) wasn’t the same as being in charge, as knowing exactly what someone’s limits were, how to push, when to let them rest, how to tease and how to discipline.

Lucy was still learning Wyatt’s limits, as was Flynn, but she’d done this for a profession, twice. One time while she was trying to extract Rittenhouse information. He had faith that she was confident in what she was doing.

“Now,” Lucy patted the bed. “Why don’t you be a good boy and let us play with you?”

Flynn felt a thrill of heat at her words, even though they were directed at Wyatt. He knew that tone of hers, loved that tone, felt something inside of him sit up and take notice, roll over and bare its throat.

Wyatt’s response was just as good, his face flushing, his eyes going wide and dark again, his body curving forward in submission, his lips parting like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Flynn was starting to recover from before, somewhat, with Lucy’s dedicated cuddling—he wasn’t as desperate for physical touch as he’d been when they’d first started sleeping together but he still got skin hungry after a session—and his fingers itched to grab onto Wyatt and really have some fun with him.

Flynn tracked him as Wyatt walked over, sitting down where Lucy indicated. She gently ran her hand through his hair, then down his cheek, cupping it, smiling softly at him. Lucy was at once soft and in control, and it was one of the many things Flynn loved about her.

Then Lucy slid her thumb against Wyatt’s lips, pressing down until his mouth opened and she could slide it inside, and Flynn felt some more of that self-control—and his sanity—slipping away.

He sidled up behind Wyatt, his palm pressing flat against Wyatt’s back and sliding slowly up, feeling Wyatt’s full-bodied shiver as he did so. It was so easy to get him overwhelmed and Flynn loved it. Wanted to see just how overwhelmed Wyatt could get.

“On second thought,” Lucy murmured, “why don’t we have fun with the mirror afterwards.”

“After what?” Flynn asked. What the hell could the woman possibly come up with next?

Lucy’s gaze was nothing short of wicked. “You’ve never given a blowjob, have you Wyatt?”

Flynn wasn’t sure which one of them choked more in response to that—him or Wyatt.

Lucy let her thumb slide out of Wyatt’s mouth so that he could answer. “No.”

“I didn’t think so.” Lucy looked up at Flynn over Wyatt’s shoulder, smirking at him. “Well, I think it’s only fair we give you a little time to recover. So in the meantime… why don’t you get on your knees, here, and you can practice on Flynn?” She leaned in, her lips brushing Wyatt’s ear, and Flynn could just barely hear her say, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you instructions.”

Flynn moved his hand up to Wyatt’s shoulder, using his grip to pull Wyatt back against him. “You can say no,” he reminded him, pressing his lips to Wyatt’s temple.

Wyatt turned his face towards Flynn, tilting it up, and Flynn bent his head just a little so that he could kiss him. Wyatt made a soft noise, pushing into it, eager, and Flynn’s heart just about exploded. Honestly, how could they not want to take Wyatt under their wing when he was so desperate, so clearly needed a guiding hand and a loving touch?

He felt Lucy crawling into Wyatt’s lap, her hands sliding over Flynn’s arms, entwining all three of them. She kissed him on the jaw, Wyatt on the cheek, her hands everywhere, moving slowly, purposefully, and for a moment Flynn didn’t want anything to change, just wanted the three of them like this always.

Then Wyatt pulled back, breathing hard, his gaze flicking down between Flynn’s legs and then back up again. “I know,” he said, and it took Flynn a moment to realize that Wyatt was replying to his previous statement. “But I want—I want to.”

Flynn nodded. Lucy trailed her fingertips over his shoulder. “Are you good?” she asked.

Translation: was he recovered, or would it be too much to ask for him to be able to respond to a blowjob. “I’m good,” he reassured her.

Lucy’s smile was like quicksilver, and then she was pulling back and taking a handful of Wyatt’s hair, tugging, baring his throat to her. “All right then, pet,” she said, and oh, the shudder Wyatt gave at that and the look on his face—Flynn’s cock was definitely responding. “Get on your knees and I’ll help teach you how it’s done.”

Wyatt slid off the bed, kneeling down between Flynn’s legs. Holy shit that was an image, Wyatt flushed and bright-eyed and so very pretty, waiting to swallow Flynn down.

God damn.

Lucy crouched down next to Wyatt, running her hands over him lightly, whispering in his ear just low enough that Flynn couldn’t hear. Wyatt braced his hands on Flynn’s knees, then slid them up to Flynn’s thighs, back down again, then back up. It looked almost like he was psyching himself up for it and Flynn almost laughed because it was fucking adorable.

Wyatt got a hand around the base of Flynn’s cock, squeezing lightly, and Flynn growled a little. He wasn’t quite there yet, could still use some working up, but just having Wyatt so near was really helping to move things along. Lucy whispered something in Wyatt’s ear and Wyatt leaned in, darting his tongue out, like he was sampling an ice cream flavor.

He did it a few more times and Flynn struggled to stay still, the little touches driving him nuts. Wyatt was clearly just exploring, trying to get a feel for it—and Flynn was well aware that Wyatt had probably never touched an uncut guy’s dick before, if he’d even really gotten a good look at one.

Not that it was deterring his enthusiasm at all. Flynn tentatively reached out, sliding his hand into Wyatt’s hair, and Wyatt choked a little before pushing up into the touch like an eager cat. Jesus Christ this just might be how he died.

Lucy whispered something in Wyatt’s ear again, rubbing his back in slow circles, and Wyatt started to work his tongue under the foreskin. Flynn glared at Lucy.

She just winked in response.

Another whispered word or two and Wyatt started working the shaft with his hand, ducking down a little to suck along the underside with his mouth before moving up and finally, Jesus holy shit, taking the head into his mouth.

Lucy whispered something in Wyatt’s ear, kissed his jaw, and then pushed up to take Flynn’s face in her hands and kiss him. “Feel free to let go whenever,” she whispered, her hands moving down to massage his shoulders, skim over his chest.

Flynn moved his hand down to cup Wyatt’s cheek, feeling the way it stretched, holy shit holy shit, the movement, as Wyatt got the hang of it and got more enthusiastic and… “Holy shit,” he managed.

He thrust his hips tentatively, and Wyatt’s eyelids fluttered, giving a small moan. “Oh, you like that,” Lucy whispered. “You like him using you like that? Hmm?”

She started kissing along the back of Wyatt’s neck and shoulders, and he shuddered.

“Fuck,” Flynn said hoarsely. “You really like this, you really like being on your knees for me, don’t you? You want me to keep—keep fucking into your mouth, using you, you want that?”

Wyatt’s fingers dug into Flynn’s thighs and he shuddered, his hips jerking into thin air, and Flynn tightened his hold on Wyatt’s hair with his other hand, thrusting shallowly, starting up a rhythm.

He wasn’t getting in all that deep. Wyatt’s hand was still working the bottom half of his shaft. This wasn’t deepthroating by any means. But he really didn’t care. Lucy was instructing Wyatt well and his tongue was working him like a goddamn fiddle and he really, really couldn’t stop thrusting, his vision blurring, so good, so fucking good—

“Okay, okay,” he spat out. “I’m going to—maybe not on the first—Wyatt—Lucy I’m—”

Wyatt, unfortunately, decided he was just going to be a champion and get as much as he could—and slid his tongue over the slit, swallowing as a shudder of heat rushed through Flynn and his hips jerked forward.

“Ten for effort,” Lucy said dryly as Wyatt choked and spluttered, eyes watering. “Four for execution.”

“How do you _do_ that?” Wyatt gasped, coughing.

Flynn pet his hair, his heart stuttering as Wyatt pushed up into the touch. “Practice.”

“I need to send an apology to Jess,” Wyatt rasped.

Lucy collapsed into giggles, resting her forehead on Flynn’s knee. “Okay, okay, okay, whoo, back on track,” she said, the affect somewhat ruined by her laughter.

Flynn had a strong feeling that he wasn’t going to be getting it up again, not for a good few hours at least, but he could see Wyatt was hard again—and that was a hell of a realization, knowing Wyatt was turned on by going down on him—and Lucy certainly didn’t have to worry about a recovery period.

He stood up, grabbed one of the ties that Lucy had used on him earlier, and slid the silk over his hand, feeling the texture. He looked over at Lucy.

Lucy smirked and nodded.

“Wyatt?” Flynn said. “Stand up for me.”

Wyatt did so, looking a little shaky—ah, that other joy of blowjobs, getting numb knees. He looked a wreck, his mouth swollen and pink, a few smears of drool and come smearing the corner of his mouth, his hair sticking up all over from Flynn tugging at it, his eyes a little bit glassy.

Flynn grabbed the washcloth he’d used to clean up and gently cleaned Wyatt’s face, kissing the corner of Wyatt’s mouth when he was done. “Now…” He tightened his grip on the ties in his hand. “I think you said something about wanting to be tied up?”

The look of hunger on Wyatt’s face was perfect.

 

* * *

 

If you’d told Wyatt five years ago that he’d one day get hard as fuck by blowing a guy, he would’ve told you to go shove it.

But holy fuck, blowing Flynn had been a hell of a turn on. He’d felt oddly powerful, since he was in charge of making Flynn feel good, and fuck he’d liked that, but he’d also felt submissive, used, and he’d really, really liked that.

And now Flynn was moving him to the foot of the bed, more to the left-hand side, and Wyatt hadn’t really thought much about the positioning of the furniture in this room but it was hitting him with swift and sharp realization why they’d placed the mirror on the wall opposite the foot of the bed.

He could see himself, and see Flynn behind him, one muscled arm wrapping around front of him, Flynn’s hand sliding up Wyatt’s chest, lightly gripping his throat, and oh God he could feel it and see it, could _see_ how in control Flynn was, how he was dominating him, putting Wyatt completely under his control.

“Watch,” Flynn murmured, his mouth at Wyatt’s ear, and then his teeth were scraping over Wyatt’s lobe, sucking slightly, and then down, kissing just underneath, sucking at his jaw, and Wyatt had no choice but to lean his weight back onto Flynn as his knees went weak…

“Definitely getting you gloves,” Lucy said, happily watching from the bed.

Jesus fuck, watching Flynn touch him like this with leather gloves on—Wyatt wasn’t sure he’d survive that.

Flynn moved one hand down over Wyatt’s chest, exploring, taking his time, scratching a little, pinching a nipple, mapping him out. The other stayed at Wyatt’s throat, not squeezing or anything, just resting there, but even just that was enough to have Wyatt’s pulse hammering.

“ _Zgodan dečko,_ ” Flynn murmured. He moved his hand down between Wyatt’s legs, giving him one good, slow pull, and then pulled away. “ _Prljav dečko_.”

Wyatt had no clue what that meant but Flynn’s tone of voice made it clear it wasn’t the kind of thing you said around children. “Hands behind you,” Flynn instructed, gently guiding Wyatt’s arms.

Wyatt felt like he could hardly breathe as the silk wound around and around his wrists, a choked whine escaping as he felt Flynn tighten and set the knot. He could see himself, his chest rapidly rising and falling, flushed, especially where Flynn’s hands had been—light red marks from Flynn’s nails, holy shit—his arms behind him, Flynn standing over him… just seeing it, watching it, made it all so much hotter.

Which had clearly been Flynn and Lucy’s intention.

“Lucy?” Flynn asked. Wyatt watched in the mirror as Flynn’s head turned to look over his shoulder. “Do you want to go first?”

Lucy looked Wyatt over, and Wyatt felt himself leaking a little, just from her gaze. “No,” she drawled. “No, I think I’ll let you play with him first.”

 _Play with him._ Jesus Christ he was so fucking turned on and hot all over and he was going to die if they kept saying that.

Flynn grinned at her—Wyatt could see it in the mirror and his spine just about melted—and then turned back to Wyatt. He got his hand around Wyatt’s throat again, just under his chin, forcing his head back, his other hand tugging on the ties and pushing forward, bowing Wyatt’s back a little, making him even more vulnerable. Wyatt could hardly breathe from how much he was wanting, how much he was feeling, and then Flynn was sealing his mouth over his and kissing him deep and harsh and possessive and Wyatt was convinced he might never breathe again.

“Test the hold for me,” Flynn murmured, pulling back.

It took Wyatt a moment to realize what Flynn meant—then he tugged at the restraints, seeing if they held. If he concentrated, twisted just so and pulled at that one tie, he’d be free, but as far as actually just yanking his wrists went, the knot held, without cutting into him.

He nodded. “Good.”

The next thing he knew he was being spun around by Flynn, a hand at the back of his neck, pushed down into the mattress. If anyone—anyone else—had done that, Wyatt would’ve kicked out, swept their legs out from under them. But Flynn was holding onto him in such a way that it was a controlled fall down, Flynn wasn’t trying to hurt him or pin him or even just disorient him, he was guiding him.

So Wyatt relaxed, letting Flynn pet down his spine, soothing him. The ties at his wrists grounded him, made him feel like he was secured so the rest of him could float away.

Flynn hand was replaced by his mouth, slow, sucking kisses pressed to the back of Wyatt’s neck, to each knob of his spine, down, down, down, until—

“ _Fuck_!”

“This,” Lucy said helpfully, and in a rather gleeful tone, “is called rimming.”

Wyatt turned his face to glare at her, but seeing as he was currently tied down and bent over a bed, he wasn’t sure it was all that intimidating.

Lucy kissed him on the forehead. “You look adorable.”

“Right, because that’s what every guy wants to hear said during—oh my _God_.” It felt like his legs had turned to liquid, holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit_.

He strained instinctively against the ties, wanting to hold onto something, wanting to buck, but the knot held and Flynn was holding him down and his tongue was right—oh _fuck_ —

Wyatt thrust against the mattress, mindless, the friction good, so good, but not enough, and Flynn wasn’t—the pressure kept leaving, he was pulling back just enough that Wyatt couldn’t—oh God—

He felt Flynn pull back completely and heard the sound of the cap on the lube being flipped open. Wyatt struggled to get his breath back, each inhale like fire, his legs useless, his whole body floating and the ties around his wrists the only thing keeping him anchored to any kind of reality.

Two slick fingers massaged his entrance, sliding inside a bit, his body already loose from Flynn’s goddamn mouth. Flynn seemed to be happy to take his time, his free hand pressed down between Wyatt’s shoulder blades, keeping him utterly pinned. He felt helpless, completely at Flynn’s mercy as Flynn slowly corkscrewed his fingers in and out, turning Wyatt into a puddle, but God it felt good, it felt so good, he felt, of all things, safe. Taken care of.

Flynn curled his fingers just so and Wyatt yelped, his body jolting like it’d been hit with electricity. Flynn chuckled, did it again in a few strokes.

“You’re… an asshole…” Wyatt groaned. But he was shaking all over and shoving his hips back into the touch so, he knew Flynn had every right to ignore his insult.

“Takes one to know one,” Flynn replied cheerfully, and then he was going back to finding Wyatt’s prostate and making Wyatt lose his goddamn mind over it.

Wyatt had no clue what the hell he was saying (or moaning, honestly, it was moaning) at this point, but Flynn was still taking his sweet time with this, scissoring him open methodically like they had all the time in the world.

“Gorgeous,” Flynn murmured. “You want it so badly… _požudan_ , perfect.”

Wyatt just groaned in response. He was in a complete haze, pushing mindlessly back into Flynn’s fingers, and only barely noticed that Lucy was no longer sitting next to him happily watching the proceedings (and, he was pretty sure, touching herself).

Flynn added a third fingers, pushing up against his prostate completely, and Wyatt saw stars, his body jerking wildly. Jesus he was so close, so close, just a few more strokes, if he could get a hand on his cock—

The fingers withdrew and then he caught a whiff of Lucy’s vanilla and cinnamon shampoo, just before he felt her kiss his cheek, her hair failing around him, trailing softly along his back, tickling.

“Not just yet,” she said softly. “It’s my turn with you. Making all those pretty noises for us. I don’t think you even know how loud you are, whimpering and begging like that.”

She got a hold of his hair, turning his head—it meant he had to crane his neck back a little but fuck if he cared about that so long as Lucy got to kiss him. And she did, greedy, vibrant, slick.

“Be a good pet for me,” she ordered, “spread your legs.”

He felt her hands bracing on his lower back, sliding around to grip his hips, felt something thick and blunt—it wasn’t Flynn’s, but it felt like—oh _fuck_. Fuck, Lucy was fucking him, she’d gotten the strap on and was fucking him and he nearly lost his goddamn mind then and there.

“Hold on for me,” Lucy ordered. “Not yet. Be a good boy, hold on.”

He did, he did, he chewed his lip so hard he drew blood but he held on as she slowly worked herself into him with shallow thrusts. He felt so goddamn full, stretched, more than Flynn’s fingers had been—the wild thought came to him that he wanted even more than this, wanted to be filled wider, until he was shaking and sobbing with it.

“You’re so desperate,” Lucy cooed, dropping kisses along his shoulders. “So greedy, perfect for us, you’ll take everything we give you, won’t you?”

“Ye—es,” Wyatt managed, his voice cracking a little.

Lucy gave a hard thrust and he moaned.

“Yes,” she encouraged him. “We like to hear you.”

Wyatt moaned again as she gave him another good, deep thrust, and then she didn’t stop, wasn’t stopping, and it was everything he could do not to beg her to let him come. He wanted to be, so badly, he was so close and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out, but she hadn’t told him he was allowed.

He could hear her little noises, the gasps, felt Flynn’s hands sliding over him occasionally, Flynn’s mouth, heard Flynn touching Lucy, kissing her, driving the both of them even more wild, and _God_ he needed to come he needed to come he needed to—

Lucy bent over, shoving herself into him, right up against his prostate, and Wyatt nearly screamed. The restraints were the only things keeping him from thrashing and he was so grateful to them, the one thing keeping him somewhat chained to reality as his mind ping-ponged on the edge of ecstasy. Lucy rocked her hips, just pressing against that spot over and over again, shifting only slightly. Wyatt thought he might cry with how much, how close, just, just, all of it.

“All right,” Lucy murmured. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart, you can let go, you can come.”

She shoved in again and Wyatt thought he might die, that it was possible to die from something feeling too good, his vision just about going double. “I need—please, please, please Lucy, ma’am, I need—”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence, but Lucy knew what he meant. “No, you’re going to come like this. Nobody’s touching your cock. Just. Like. This.” Each word was accompanied by a hard thrust right against that spot, fully against it.

Wyatt sobbed, shaking, he wasn’t sure, he wanted but he wasn’t sure—

“You can do it,” Lucy reassured him. “C’mon, baby. It’s not a choice, you don’t want me to give you a choice, do you? You’re my plaything, and I get to do what I want with you. So if I want you to come, just like this, then that’s how you’re going to come.”

That did it. That unlocked the last barrier inside of him, freed him from the responsibility. He didn’t have to choose, he didn’t have to make this happen. It simply would happen, because Lucy said it would.

It felt, oddly, very freeing.

Wyatt felt like something was ripping through him, snaking through every vein, rapping on every nerve ending, and he’d either lost vision or closed his eyes, he didn’t know, all he knew was that it all felt so good, and he was floating up somewhere, and he definitely wanted to do this again.

 

* * *

 

Flynn gently undid the ties and put everything away while Lucy had Wyatt’s head in her lap, petting through his hair as he slowly came back to reality. Flynn watched Wyatt’s gaze focus, first on Lucy, then on him.

“Was I good?” he croaked.

Flynn chuckled, going to get water for everyone.

“The best,” Lucy reassured him. “And now I’m thinking… order take out? Movie night?”

“God, yes,” Wyatt murmured, closing his eyes again.

Flynn just grinned to himself. Lucy caught his gaze and smiled up at him, looking like a cat with cream.

He supposed she had a right to feel a bit smug. That had, as he’d predicted, been a hell of a session.

 

* * *

 

Lucy woke up from a very deep and happy sleep to the alarm going off. She pawed uselessly, trying to turn it off, but it was hard when she had to climb over Mt. Flynn to get to it.

Flynn grunted. “Honey… ‘m not a jungle gym…”

Lucy got to the clock and slapped it until it shut up.

Behind her, Wyatt groaned. “Five more minutes.”

Lucy retreated back into the double embrace, Wyatt curled up against her back from behind, Flynn’s arm protectively draped over her from the front. She buried her face in her husband’s chest, tugging on Wyatt’s wrist to encourage him to stay right where he was.

There was a pause, and then Flynn said, conversationally, “It’s Tuesday.”

“Brilliant,” she mumbled. She patted Flynn’s arm. “So proud you know that.”

There was another pause, and then Flynn said, “I mean, I can go to see Amy’s ultrasound all alone if you wa—”

Lucy shot upright, elbowing Wyatt and nearly knocking Flynn off the bed. “Fuck!”

She scrambled out of bed to get ready. Behind her, she heard Wyatt confusedly ask, “What was…” only to have him be interrupted by what sounded like a very thorough kiss from Flynn.

“Get up, get up, get up!” she said. She knew it was stupid but she’d picked an outfit for today and everything, it was hanging on the back of the closet. It was just—this was really important to her, she’d been waiting for this day for two years, and maybe it wasn’t her pregnancy, but it was still her child, and she couldn’t wait, she couldn’t wait to see her baby. Or what would soon be her baby, anyway.

“How long will you guys be gone?” Wyatt asked, yawning.

Lucy glanced over her shoulder. “Garcia why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Because unlike you, I don’t do my hair and makeup.”

“Liar, you do your hair.” She looked over at Wyatt, who was bemusedly watching her, the blankets tangled around his legs and his hair sticking up all over. “You’re welcome to come with us if you want.”

Wyatt blinked a few times. “I, um, I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“You’re not, we want you to come with us.”

Flynn got out of bed, walking over to the dresser. “I should have some shirts you can borrow. You should just start bringing stuff over when you spend the night.”

“The only person I’m usually doing the walk of shame to is Jess and she doesn’t care.”

Flynn tossed Wyatt a light blue button up shirt that hit Wyatt square in the face. “That’s the second time I’ve been hit today, I’m calling abuse.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Lucy replied. “Now unless both of you want punishment tonight how about you get out of bed and get ready?”

 _That_ got their asses in gear.

Wyatt borrowed the shirt Flynn had thrown at him but wore the same pair of jeans from yesterday, hopping quickly into the shower while Flynn made the bed and Lucy put the clothes from last night in the laundry. It felt like forever for them all to get ready, but at last they were out the door.

“Amy will kill me if I tell her we slept through the first few alarms so if anyone asks we’ve been up for hours,” Lucy told them.

Flynn got into the driver’s seat, Wyatt in the back. Lucy didn’t even realize her hands were shaking until Wyatt put his over hers as Flynn pulled out of the driveway. “Hey, it’s okay Luce.”

She squeezed back hard, accepting Flynn’s hand when he got out into the street and was able to spare one to cover her other hand with. “We’re going to see our baby,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Wyatt grinned. “Yeah, you are.”

Flynn was silent the whole drive, but Lucy was well-versed in Flynn’s silences by now. He was nervous but trying not to show it. Trying to be strong for her, the way he always was.

They pulled up in the hospital parking lot, Wyatt texting Jess so they knew where to meet them as Flynn looked for a parking space. “She says they’re just sitting on the bench outside of the west entrance.”

Lucy clamped down on Flynn’s hand harder. Flynn rubbed his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

It felt like once she saw this—it became real. It became tangible, an actual thing that was going to happen rather than just a pipe dream. And that thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.

“ _Draga_ ,” Flynn whispered, letting go of her hand briefly to put the car in park, then letting her grab it again. “Lucy. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded.

Flynn kissed the back of her hand, and they all got out of the car.

Wyatt hovered a little, as if unsure what he should be doing in this situation. It wasn’t, after all, exactly his child. He wasn’t the impending parent here.

Lucy understood Wyatt’s concern. He’d once been invasive, getting in on business that wasn’t his, trying to dictate things like he controlled her and others. Like he had a say in their choices. Now he was respectful and had learned to back off, but Lucy sometimes feared it meant he swung too far the other way, not stepping in when it was all right to.

She reached out, curling her fingers around the end of Wyatt’s sleeve, tugging him in. He’d had to roll up the sleeves of the shirt, since it was just a little big on him given his and Flynn’s height differences. Wyatt stumbled forward a bit, caught off guard, and she took his hand in hers. Wyatt gave her a reassuring smile.

Lucy took a deep breath and tugged lightly on their hands to start walking through the parking structure to the hospital. Sure enough, Jess and Amy were sitting on the bench, chatting, Jess’s arm around Amy’s shoulders. Lucy’s heart swelled. Her sister looked so happy, beaming at Jess, laughing at the things Jess said.

Amy deserved someone who would make her happy.

“Hey!” Jess said, spotting them first. She waved.

Wyatt glanced over at them, opening his mouth slightly, as if wondering if he should let go of Lucy’s hand now that they were around other people.

Lucy wanted to tell him _don’t you dare_ , but then Amy was standing up and Lucy had to let go of both men to hug her sister.

“Thank you, again,” she whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Of course,” Amy whispered back.

Flynn hugged Amy briefly next, stepping back, and Lucy saw him slide his hand into Wyatt’s back pocket.

The look of _holy shit_ on Wyatt’s face was hilarious.

“Shall we all go inside?” Jess said, her gaze flicking over to the situation but tactfully not saying anything.

Lucy didn’t know if Wyatt had explained it all to Jess, but she felt that their behavior was explanation enough. She’d walked up holding both of their hands, for Christ’s sake. This wasn’t something that was going to just be in the shadows, unacknowledged and not discussed. Wyatt was theirs now. That was just how it worked. She’d argue that he’d already belonged with them long before they’d had sex or made it official. But now it was official and she and Flynn were going to touch him any damn way they pleased, in public or private.

…well they weren’t going to blow him in public or anything. She did have some standards.

“Yes,” Flynn said, sounding perfectly calm and not like he was a) cupping the ass of his boyfriend and b) probably melting down inside over what was about to happen.

Lucy took Flynn’s hand again as they walked inside. They gave their names to the receptionist, who looked a little confused that there were so many of them.

Amy jerked her thumb at Jess. “The girlfriend.” She jerked her thumb at Lucy and Flynn. “The sister and brother-in-law I’m being the surrogate for.” She pointed at Wyatt. “Not sure what he’s doing here.”

“Thanks, Ames,” Wyatt replied dryly.

Lucy opened her mouth to explain that this was their boyfriend, but then thought better of it. Not everyone was open to polyamory and there was no need to confuse the poor receptionist further.

Luckily nobody seemed to care who all was actually there to see the ultrasound so long as everyone had permission from the pregnant woman and the parents to be there. It wasn’t like a delivery room where too many cooks meant the staff couldn’t do their job.

Amy was set up on the bed, and Wyatt took a corner chair out of the way while Lucy held one of Amy’s hands and Jess held the other. Flynn rested his arm around Lucy’s shoulders, anchoring her, and God did she need to be anchored. She leaned back against him, breathing carefully, trying not to cut off circulation in Amy’s hand as she held on and the doctor explained everything.

“It’s going to take you a minute to see anything,” Jess advised. She’d gotten all her ultrasounds alone, while still with Rittenhouse. Lucy didn’t even want to think about what that must’ve been like for her.

Lucy put more of her weight on Flynn, her head against his chest. She could feel his rapid heartbeat and fumbled for his hand, letting him hold on tightly. He had to be remembering Iris right now, as much as he tried to focus on the present moment. How could he not be?

Flynn kissed the top of her head. “I’m okay,” he murmured.

The screen lit up and the doctor started rubbing the wand, or whatever it was called, she couldn’t quite remember, over Amy’s stomach. “So, here we should see the head… right about there…” The doctor indicated on the screen.

Lucy leaned in a little, trying to see. Amy winced. “Luce, loosen up.”

She loosened her grip. “Sorry.”

The doctor frowned, still watching the screen. “Huh.”

Lucy literally felt Flynn stop breathing.

She felt a little like she’d stopped breathing too.

What was wrong, what was wrong, what had happened, was their baby—was it—no, no no no _no_ —

Wyatt stood up. “What is it?” he asked, walking over. He put a hand on Flynn’s shoulder, and Lucy felt him put a hand on hers, as well. “Breathe for me,” he murmured. “Make my hands move.” He looked over at the doctor as Lucy inhaled sharply. It felt like the walls were closing in around her. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice a little sharper, his body curling around in front of Lucy and Flynn as if he needed to physically shield them from a blow.

“Everything’s fine, it’s just…” The doctor paused. “It looks like there’s two of them.”

Lucy made a noise that she didn’t even recognize. Behind her, Flynn was still frozen.

Wyatt let go of her and she felt him wrapping himself around Flynn’s arm, tugging slightly.

“Two?” Amy said, her voice strangled. “I’ve got— _twins_!?”

The doctor nodded. “If you’ll look here,” she said, indicating, “there are two heads…”

“I’m carrying two of you,” Amy said bluntly. “Holy shit.”

She didn’t name names but it was pretty clear she meant Flynn.

“Holy shit,” Jess said, kissing Amy’s hand. “Babe, holy shit!”

Lucy whipped around, grabbing Flynn’s face and kissing him.

Flynn made a startled noise against her mouth and kissed her back, finally taking in a lungful of air as it seemed to really hit him that this was real, this was happening.

Lucy kissed him again and again, on the cheeks, the nose, his eyelids, his eyebrows, his mouth, everywhere, practically jumping up and down. “We’re having twins, we’re having twins!”

“Hold on,” Amy said. “Hold on, no, no there is no joyful kissing! Stop that! I’m carrying two of your little monsters in here! Two! Nobody warned me about this! Stop that celebrating right this second!”

Jess sympathetically patted Amy’s hand. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll help you out.”

Lucy whirled to Wyatt, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him. “We’re having twins!”

“So I heard,” he replied, putting a steadying hand at her back.

Flynn swore in Croatian and sat down in the chair Wyatt had been using, a dazed look still on his face.

“I take it you’re the father,” the doctor said, deadpan.

Lucy laughed, seating herself sideways in Flynn’s lap. “Are you okay?” she whispered softly.

Flynn nodded, his arm wrapping around her back, his hand curving at her hip. “It’s—a lot. But a good—a good, sort of a lot.”

“You’re happy, then?” she asked. She was happy, she was so very happy, but she wanted him to be too, she didn’t want this to be too much for him…

Flynn kissed her softly. “ _Moja draga_ , I thought we were going to be lucky to get one child, now we have two. Of course I’m happy.”

She didn’t even realize she was crying until Flynn smiled at her, bringing his hand up to gently wipe the tears away. “I love you,” she choked out. God she loved him, so much, and they were having twins, holy shit.

Flynn chuckled. “I love you too.”

“Are you two going to actually get over here and watch?” Amy demanded. “You’re missing the show!”

Wyatt helped her get to her feet. Lucy hugged him again. She was glad he was here for this.

“What does this mean for her health and care?” Jess asked.

The doctor looked over. “She’s living with you?”

“Well…” Jess looked at Wyatt. “That was the tentative plan. She’s my girlfriend, so…”

Lucy looked at Flynn. Flynn, as always nowadays, read her mind. “Wyatt,” he said quietly. “It’ll be a little crowded in the apartment. We have plenty of room and you’re over at our place all the time anyway.” Even more so now that they were all sleeping together. “Would you like to move in with us?”

Wyatt stared at Flynn like he was speaking Mandarin. “I…” He looked at Lucy, his eyes wide and lost. “Are you—you’re serious? You can’t be spur of the moment about things like this…”

“It’s something we were already thinking about,” Lucy reassured him. “But it wouldn’t be fair to Amy and Jess’s relationship to have you there I think, and you wouldn’t want to be a third wheel when you can be a tricycle.”

Wyatt groaned. “That was—that was an awful joke.”

Lucy grinned. “I’m hilarious.”

“You’re the worst.”

“So you will?” Flynn asked. Lucy could hear the awful hope in his voice and reached out to gently take his hand.

Wyatt looked surprised that Flynn was even asking. “Of—of course I will. I—yes. Yes, if that’s what you two really want—”

Flynn kissed him on the temple. “It is,” he murmured as he moved past, squeezing Wyatt’s shoulder and then bending to look at the screen.

Lucy pecked Wyatt on the cheek and then followed, wanting to see her babies.

Her _babies_.

Flynn wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his chest, watching as the doctor pointed things out for her, the blurry shapes on screen starting to make sense.

She was so happy. So very, very happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zgodan dečko: Pretty boy  
> Prljav dečko: Dirty boy  
> Požudan: greedy (lustful)
> 
> Don't look at me, look at Flynn, I'm just the scribe.


	12. Chapter 12

Wyatt was ninety percent sure that moving in with Flynn and Lucy was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.

The remaining ten percent was because, well, things with Jess might have soured but growing up she was the one good thing in his teenage life, and his young adult life, and she’d kept him steadier than he would’ve been otherwise and he could never forget that.

But after packing up his few (pathetically few) belongings and bringing them over to Lucy and Flynn’s, he’d immediately realized that there’d been a fuckton of empty places in his life that those two were now eager to fill. He never ate a meal alone anymore, never went to bed alone, never had to sit there in an empty apartment and wonder what the fuck he was doing with his life.

Joy spent half her nights with them, half with Jess and Amy. That would probably change once the twins were born. Wyatt didn’t mind having her on weekends or mostly having her in the day instead of at night if it came down to it, so long as he still got solid time with her.

Of course, that would mean thinking about when the twins arrived and Wyatt was definitely not thinking about that because hey, panic attack.

But right now—right now was really, really good.

He woke up sluggishly to the sound of Lucy’s alarm going off. Wyatt closed his eyes again. He wasn’t the one who had to be up to teach an eight a.m.

Lucy had, at some point in the night, managed to get Wyatt’s hand in a death grip despite being on Flynn’s other side—probably something to do with her lying on top of Flynn like an octopus—and Wyatt felt her grip gentle, her thumb swiping back and forth over his knuckles before she let go.

 “You off?” Flynn mumbled, his accent thick and voice slurred with sleep.

“Mmhmm.” Wyatt cracked his eyes open in time to see Lucy leisurely kiss him. Flynn sleepily brought his arm up to drape over his waist as she kissed him again. “Yeah, I’ll be back around five, I think. Depends on how long my meetings go.”

“Drive safe. _Volim te._ ”

Lucy smiled adoringly, Flynn’s hand lightly trailing up and down her spine. “Love you too.”

She moved over to Wyatt, to his surprise. “Hey, sleepy, don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“I’ll try.”

She kissed him softly, her hand cupping his face. “I was thinking we could go shopping later, hmm? Pick out a couple fun items?”

He was still half-asleep, but that set his heart racing. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy laughed softly, pecked him on the lips, and then slid out of bed.

Flynn rolled over, pulling Wyatt into his chest, his arm draping heavily around Wyatt’s waist. Wyatt could hear Lucy softly moving around, getting ready, but it was all just background noise as Flynn’s deep, even breaths lured him back into sleep again.

When he woke up properly, it was lighter out, sunlight streaming in through the window, the curtains now open. Wyatt squinted, noticing he was now alone in the bed. Flynn didn’t keep regular office hours, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to go into work at some point today.

From the bathroom came the sound of running water. Wyatt glanced at the clock. Flynn probably hadn’t been up very long, unless he’d snuck out for a workout and that was why he was now in the shower.

Wyatt got up to go into the bathroom and find out.

Flynn was in the shower, finishing washing up his hair, and glanced over as Wyatt entered. He flashed a smirk at him and then went back to rinsing out the suds.

Wyatt could still distinctly remember a time when seeing Flynn smiling with anything other than sarcasm was rare. And Flynn wasn’t exactly known as a guy who grinned, so to speak, regularly. But he did smile, now, small smiles yes but warm ones, happy ones, and Wyatt knew Lucy was the main reason those smiles had started coming back but Wyatt treasured them.

“Are you going to just stand there staring or are you going to hop in?” Flynn asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Wyatt was still… unsure about what the rules were. He lived here now, but what did that mean for being the friend-slash-fuck buddy? What things could he do? What could he not do?

He would rather wait for permission than overstep, the way he once had. He’d nearly lost Lucy forever, even just her friendship. He’d nearly lost Jess, and his unborn child, and Rufus, and Jiya.

Wyatt reached up, tentatively pulling his shirt up and over his head. Flynn chuckled, walking over and opening the glass shower door, then tugging Wyatt in once Wyatt had finished getting his clothes off.

“Hey!” Wyatt yelped, water getting in his face. “Asshole.”

“Aww, touchy.”

“Y’know I think I liked you better when you were all taciturn and only talked to threaten us.”

Flynn pushed Wyatt’s hair back out of his face. “Mmm, you sure about that?”

“Oh, definitely.” Wyatt nodded, even as he let himself get backed up until his back hit the tiled wall. Flynn’s hands slid up his sides and Wyatt wrapped his arms around Flynn’s neck, realizing that it was already starting to feel automatic to do that, to be touched and to touch in turn. “All this sass and smiling, it’s the worst.”

“You always were a shit liar,” Flynn replied, and then he was kissing him and Wyatt sort of stopped thinking.

Wyatt had always imagined that Flynn would kiss roughly and that Lucy would kiss soft and sweet. Now he knew that Lucy could be just as rough, and Flynn could be soft, too.

Flynn was being soft today—playful. He nipped at Wyatt’s mouth, at his throat, tugged at Wyatt until Wyatt was blindly kissing back, unable to focus on anything else.

“You’re going to be late for work,” Wyatt murmured as Flynn’s hands started to wander.

“I’m the boss,” Flynn replied. “I can go in when I want.”

“Mmm, wait, does that mean when you ask me to do freelance work for you—I should call you sir?” Wyatt asked.

Flynn shuddered and a low growl rolled out of his throat. Wyatt grinned. “You like it when I call you that.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flynn gave him a look, his eyes nearly black, and Wyatt had to swallow against the rush of heat that had his hips jerking. “Should’ve known you’d be a brat.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Give a guy a few orgasms and he thinks he can walk all over you.”

“I mean, I can go back to just using my dildo if you want…”

Flynn’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh that’s right, you have a toy.”

He pulled away and Wyatt stumbled a little, bereft. The hot water was nothing compared to the warmth of Flynn’s body.

Flynn smirked, tilting his head towards the door. “Why don’t you go fetch that for me?”

Wyatt shivered at the casual, commanding tone in Flynn’s voice. “Yes, sir,” he breathed, meaning it with every fiber of his being that time.

He hurried back into the bedroom and opened the drawer that had been designated as his when he moved in—well, one of the drawers.

Holy shit, he still couldn’t quite believe he’d moved in with them.

Wyatt grabbed the medium-sized dildo and brought it back, holding it out to Flynn.

Flynn inspected it, looking pleased and devilish. “Turn around, hands on the wall.”

Oh, God. Wyatt did as he was told, acutely aware that he looked like he was presenting himself a bit this way, okay maybe a lot this way, and also acutely aware that he didn’t care that he liked, that he could feel the appreciative look Flynn was giving him.

Flynn’s arm came around him, sliding up Wyatt’s chest slowly, tweaking a nipple and then moving just as slowly back down again, fingers brushing along Wyatt’s stomach, making him shiver. Wyatt tilted his head to the side, knowing he was blatantly asking for Flynn to kiss him there and not at all caring.

Flynn’s chuckle said that he knew exactly what Wyatt was doing, but then he started pressing slow, sucking kisses down Wyatt’s neck and shoulder, so Wyatt counted it as a win.

He heard the sound of a bottle being opened, and wondered just what it said about Lucy and Flynn that they had a bottle of lube just on standby in the shower—and then decided that since he was getting fucked in the shower he wasn’t in a position to judge.

Flynn gripped his cock just as his other hand slid down between Wyatt’s legs, a finger circling slowly, catching on the rim, teasing. Wyatt groaned, letting go of the tiled wall with one hand to grab Flynn’s arm, his head falling down to watch as Flynn stroked him slowly, water dripping off of both of them.

Wyatt was a lot more used to the whole getting fucked thing, and relaxed as Flynn slid first one, then a second finger in, the sensation still good but no longer new, comforting in its familiarity—but far from blasé. Flynn withdrew his fingers and Wyatt braced for the dildo, biting his lip, wanting to beg but not sure if he should, not sure what the rules were.

Then he heard a soft buzzing noise and thought— _oh fuck_.

“Fascinating,” Flynn said, and then he was working the goddamn thing into him and Wyatt jerked helplessly.

“You’re so sensitive,” Flynn noted, twisting the toy as it sent vibrations all the way up through Wyatt’s spine, his arms, his legs. Wyatt’s cock jerked, spurting a little, his mouth falling open.

Flynn thrust the toy gently in and out of him and Wyatt shuddered, trying to stay still, knowing if he fucked himself back onto it this would all be over embarrassingly quickly. God, it felt so good, he was finding he was annoyingly turned on by vibrations, but…

“Garcia,” he croaked. “I want—” He was still working on asking for what he wanted, on being verbal and honest instead of just going along with whatever Flynn and Lucy wanted. “Fuck me properly, please.”

Flynn paused, leaving the goddamn dildo inside of him, and Wyatt’s knees buckled a bit. “Properly?” Flynn mused.

“I want—I want you, inside me, please.”

Flynn’s chuckle was everything. “Well, if you insist… But you do look so pretty like this.”

Oh, God. “Do—should I beg?”

It was an honest question, he wasn’t taunting. He genuinely didn’t know.

“Mmm.” Flynn twisted the toy inside of him, finding Wyatt’s prostate, and Wyatt yelped. Oh fuck, he was going to come if Flynn didn’t stop this, if he didn’t—oh dear God, oh fuck… “Yes. Beg for me.”

Flynn’s voice was like sin. Wyatt clawed at the tiles, trying to keep his grip, to keep from crashing to the floor as the steady, vibrating pressure inside of him threatened to send him careening over the edge. “Please, please, please, I want you to fuck me, I want you inside me, I want your cock, please, Garcia, please—”

“So very obedient,” Flynn noted, pulling the toy out of him. The change in sensations was so fast that Wyatt felt a little lightheaded. “I wonder how you’ll be on an ornery day.”

“Keep testing me and you’ll find out,” Wyatt said, trying to sound snappy but really just croaking the words.

Flynn burst out laughing, sounding genuinely surprised by the humor, and kissed Wyatt swiftly, sweetly.

Before Wyatt could even process that sudden affection, Flynn was shifting positions, getting directly behind him and spreading Wyatt’s legs a little more, lining himself up.

Wyatt got a little impatient. The moment he felt Flynn start to enter him he shoved his hips back, taking all of Flynn in, grinning to himself when Flynn swore violently and thrust instinctively.

Flynn’s hand wrapped around Wyatt’s throat, squeezing slightly. “Oh, you think that’s funny?” he growled.

Wyatt choked on his own inhale, a rush of absolute pleasure shooting through him at the feeling of Flynn squeezing like that. Oh holy _fuck_.

Flynn’s grip released immediately. “Shit. Shit, Wyatt, are you—”

“Do that again,” Wyatt begged. “Please, please do that again, I want that—”

Flynn gingerly moved his hand back into position. “You want me to choke you?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

Flynn started thrusting shallowly and Wyatt moaned, his eyelids fluttering. “Are you sure? Wyatt?”

“Yes. I’m—I’m sure.” He wanted that, he wanted Flynn to choke him and fuck him, to have Wyatt at his mercy, under his control, he wanted to feel presented and used and held and enjoyed all at the same time, he wanted Flynn to devour him and savor every bite of Wyatt that he took.

…on a completely unrelated note he should probably have something to eat after this, he was starting to think in food metaphors.

Flynn kissed Wyatt’s back softly. “If you’re sure,” he growled, and then his hand was tightening again around Wyatt’s throat and his thrusts became harder, stronger, and oh Jesus fucking Christ yes yes _yes_.

Flynn had no goddamn mercy, his strokes hard, deep, and his hand always present, even when it wasn’t applying pressure it was still wrapped around Wyatt’s throat, a constant reminder. Wyatt wasn’t even sure if he was standing under his own power anymore or if it was Flynn’s arm around his waist just keeping him up, he couldn’t feel his legs, he didn’t care, he felt so good, so very good, indescribably—and then Flynn found the right angle and stars exploded behind his eyes and he might have been making noise but he couldn’t tell, his throat felt raw, he didn’t care, Flynn was in him and around him, draped over him, skin to skin, he could smell him and them and the water was hot and slick and they were hot and slick together and it was all—

Wyatt jerked helplessly as he came, the evidence washed away almost immediately by the water, his fingers numb from trying to dig into the tile, his breathing harsh, his blood singing.

Flynn bit down hard on the back of Wyatt’s shoulder blade, his hand finally dropping from Wyatt’s throat to wrap his other arm around Wyatt’s chest and keep him in place as he shoved himself inside. Wyatt could feel it all spilling into him, sliding down between his legs, and almost wished the shower wouldn’t erase it.

“ _Lijepi dečko_ ,” Flynn murmured, kissing the spot he’d bitten, as if in apology. “You’re all right?”

Wyatt nodded, pressing back against Flynn. “Gonna need breakfast and a nap after this but fuck, yes. That was—that was really, really good. You can do that whenever the hell you want.”

Flynn chuckled right in Wyatt’s ear, the sound sliding down his spine. “I’ll make us some breakfast, how’s that sound?”

“Mmm, thought you had work.”

“Fuck work.”

“Oh, like you fuck me n’ Lucy?”

“Going to clean those smart remarks right out of your mouth,” Flynn warned.

And he did.

With his tongue.

 

* * *

 

Lucy came home from class, worn out.

…huh.

Flynn’s car was still in the driveway. Fancy that.

She got inside, kicked off her shoes, set down her bag, and went upstairs.

Wyatt and Flynn were on the bed, looking rather worn out themselves but in a much more pleasant way than she was. Wyatt was rubbing at his eyes like he’d just woken up from a nap, while Flynn had his glasses on—and nothing else—and was doing some work on his laptop.

“I take it you called in sick?” Lucy noted, trying for stern but unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Flynn looked up and closed the laptop. “Maybe.”

“Stacy’s going to kill you if you keep calling in so you can have sex.”

“And we’re not allowed a bit of a honeymoon phase with him?”

“I’m right here,” Wyatt grumbled, sitting up. “And it was just supposed to be a quickie in the shower, but oh no, somebody just had to try out the dildo on me…”

“I’m sorry, who was it that said he wanted me to, and I quote, fuck him properly?”

“I can’t believe you had such fun without me,” Lucy pouted, undoing her shirt. She wanted to get to the sex shop before it closed but surely they had time…

Flynn noticed what she was doing. “Upset at missing out?” he teased, taking the glasses off as well and moving across the bed to help her get her clothes off.

Wyatt wasn’t yet at a place of initiating touch like that. Still skittish, she was sure. But he’d learn. They wanted him to touch them.

“Just a little,” Lucy said, pouting for effect. “If only I knew some dedicated boys who’d be willing to help me relax after a stressful day…”

Flynn pulled her onto the bed, making her shriek as she lost her balance. Wyatt laughed, helping her out of the rest of her clothes when she playfully kicked at him.

“What do you want?” Flynn asked, kissing her hello. She always tried to keep her hello kisses to him somewhat brief, but he pulled her in each time, intoxicated her, made her want to linger. He was better than any wine.

“I think being so naughty deserves a little punishment, don’t you?” Lucy replied, squirming in his arms until she could rest back against his chest and spread her legs. “Wyatt, sweetheart, I think I’m owed a little orgasm, yes?”

Wyatt grinned at her. “Why yes, ma’am, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” Lucy crooked her finger at him and Wyatt crawled over to her, kissing her hello to start.

Lucy got a hand in his hair and pushed him down between her legs. “You can go first,” she whispered. “You know what to do, don’t you? Like a good little plaything?”

Wyatt shuddered, and oh, she was never going to get tired of that overwhelmed look on his face. He kissed the inside of her thigh almost delicately, and then moved up higher, licking right into the heat of her.

Lucy sank back against Flynn’s chest, humming appreciatively as Flynn’s hand came up to massage her breast, never one to just sit idle and watch. “You’re next,” she assured him, gasping and jerking her hips as Wyatt bit into the soft skin of her stomach.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Flynn murmured, winding the strands of her hair around his fingers and tugging.

Lucy tightened her grip on Wyatt’s hair and guided him back down directly between her legs. None of this teasing business—she wanted it hot and dirty and like a freight train.

Wyatt got the message, focusing on the most sensitive parts of her, his hands on her legs to keep her pinned. Flynn’s hands kept her upper body trapped against him, and the feeling of being unable to move, only able to accept the tightening coil of pleasure, had her vision blurring and her mouth falling open on a gasp. Wyatt was eager and a fast learner, and she had no complaints as he determinedly licked and sucked at her until was twisting her hips uselessly, the heat of it all too much and yet perfect, hovering on that edge and then relentlessly forced off it.

Wyatt looked an absolute mess as he pulled away from her, which was exactly how she liked him to be. Lucy tugged him up towards her as Flynn neatly and gently deposited her on the bed so that he could take Wyatt’s place.

Flynn took his time, lavishing attention on her thighs, avoiding her clit, letting her come down from her high a little as she licked the taste of herself from every corner of Wyatt’s mouth. Their earlier activities must’ve really knocked them down for the count, because Wyatt was making the most delicious noises as she touched him and eating her out was usually a surefire way to get Flynn hard but neither of them seemed to be in any condition to actually fuck her right now.

That was perfectly all right. Home runs were great but you didn’t see them every day.

Flynn worked his tongue, his fingers into her, getting her wound up and right on the brink and then retreating, until she was biting and clawing at Wyatt in response since she couldn’t get at Flynn. Wyatt seemed to not mind in the slightest, responding to her rough treatment with beautiful little groans and gasps. Mmm, so he liked it rough? She looked forward to the day she could get as rough as she wanted with him.

Just when she thought she was going to scream with frustration, Flynn sealed his mouth over her, his tongue doing that fluttering thing that always made her melt, and she went completely boneless, floating, sated.

Flynn pulled back, wiping at his mouth, a pleased gleam in his eyes. “Feeling less stressed?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Give me a few more kisses and I’ll be good to go,” she replied.

Since she really had the most wonderful husband, he obliged her.

“You aren’t really, uh, upset that we had sex without you, are you?” Wyatt asked. “Because if you are…”

“No, sweetheart.” Lucy smiled up at him. “Sometimes one of us might not want sex or will be busy, and it’s okay. Being together doesn’t mean all of us together all at once all the time. It means that we’re allowed to be together in whatever combination we want, whenever we want. I’m not counting orgasms or anything.”

“Okay.” Wyatt released a breath, looking hugely relieved. “I’m—I just wanted to be sure.”

Lucy pulled him in until he was lying down next to her and she could curl into him, her free hand still cupping Flynn’s cheek and gently petting him with the tips of her fingers. “Thank you for checking,” she told him.

Wyatt nodded eagerly, as if to say _of course, ma’am._ He had come quite far.

She couldn’t wait for the day when he had confidence in this, in them.

 

* * *

 

Flynn raised an eyebrow as they entered the shop, unsure who he had to keep more of an eye on: Wyatt, who looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin from nerves, or Lucy, who looked like she would do the same but out of excitement.

“Stick close to me,” he murmured to Wyatt. “I’ll protect you.”

“Hardy har har,” Wyatt muttered.

Lucy waved at the sales clerk and then made a beeline for the collars. Wyatt, adorably, flushed bright red. “Hey sweetheart, c’mere,” Lucy called.

If the saleswoman was in any doubt about the arrangement here, Wyatt’s automatic walking over upon being called ‘sweetheart’ probably got rid of that.

Lucy proceeded to hold up a few collars, and even went so far as to try one or two on him. “I feel like a Barbie,” Wyatt noted.

“If this is what you did to your Barbies then I’ve got some concerns,” Flynn replied.

Wyatt flipped him off.

Flynn idly looked around at some of the other sections. He wasn’t… opposed to getting Wyatt a collar, per se. He himself had one and he enjoyed wearing it. But after he’d had his hand around Wyatt’s throat that morning… felt the way Wyatt jerked helplessly in response, the look of overwhelmed bliss on Wyatt’s face…

Flynn wanted to be the person who made Wyatt look like that. He wanted his hand around Wyatt’s throat, not a collar.

…oh Jesus Christ he was jealous of an inanimate object.

Flynn shook his head at himself, caught sight of a few things, and paused.

Huh.

He walked over closer. Hmm. A spreader bar.

Flynn had used one a couple of times with Josip. It wasn’t something he felt any strong way towards, and so he’d never mentioned one to Lucy and she apparently hadn’t cared because she’d never mentioned one to him.

But on Wyatt…

A spreader bar was two cuffs secured at the end of a bar. By putting the persons arms or legs in the cuffs, the legs could be forced to stay open—spread—or if it was the arms, same deal, usually by having the arms go behind the back. Another form of bondage.

Putting one on Wyatt so that he couldn’t close his legs… especially if they were making him orgasm multiple times, pushing his body to the limit… Flynn’s vision blurred a little as heat spread up through him.

Lucy made a satisfied humming noise and Flynn glanced over. “What do you think?” Lucy asked him.

Wyatt was blushing but held Flynn’s gaze determinedly. Lucy had selected a collar in dark blue leather, probably because Flynn’s collar was black and she wanted some variety. It brought out the blue in Wyatt’s eyes, and it did look rather pretty, snug against Wyatt’s throat, moving whenever Wyatt swallowed.

Flynn walked over, his breath short and hot in his lungs, and reached out, lightly tracing the edge of the collar with thumb. Wyatt inhaled sharply, his pupils wide and dark, his lips parted.

Lucy looked practically predatory, her eyes glittering, a knowing and pleased smile curling up one corner of her mouth. “Imagine him wearing that while we fuck him.”

Flynn could imagine that very easily, thanks, and he had to tamp down on an instinctive growl. “Which do you like better?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “This? Or my hand?”

Wyatt looked like he might actually spontaneously combust and Flynn had a moment of wondering if they should be worried about Wyatt’s blood pressure. “Is it bad if I say both?”

“Why on earth would that be bad?” Lucy sounded beyond delighted with this whole thing.

“Uh… I don’t know?” Wyatt replied. “I really, really like when you—but sometimes we’re, uh, going to be doing things where you can’t reach or you need both hands so then this… I like it, I think it’ll, um, be useful.”

“Useful?” Flynn teased.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Is it too tight?” he asked, feeling his voice drop down a little in volume and pitch.

Wyatt shook his head.

“But when I do this…” Flynn splayed his fingers wide and slid his palm slowly down Wyatt’s chest, turning so that the saleswoman couldn’t see as he turned his hand and moved it between Wyatt’s legs. “…it gets tighter, doesn’t it?”

Wyatt was breathing harder, deeper, his breath catching a little. “Yes,” he whispered.

Flynn pulled his hand away and Wyatt swayed on the spot a bit. Part of him still couldn’t believe that Wyatt actually liked this, that he enjoyed being like this, submissive and teased and at their mercy. It was almost like a drug, a rush through Flynn both same and different from the one he got when Lucy ordered him to his knees.

“I saw you over by the spreader bars,” Lucy noted, her tone light as though she wasn’t fully aware what saying that would do to Wyatt. “Seeing something you like?”

“Not for myself,” Flynn noted.

Lucy looked over at Wyatt, and her eyes looked practically black, her smile growing. “Oh…”

“What?” Wyatt asked.

Flynn reached around and undid his collar. No reason for Wyatt to be going to pieces in public like this, and they did still have to pay for the thing. “Breathe, _štene_ ,” he reminded him, holding the collar so that they wouldn’t forget to bring it to the counter.

Wyatt inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly. “What’s a spreader bar?”

Lucy dashed over to grab one. Flynn rolled his eyes, but fondly. Lucy’s eagerness and lack of shame was something he wished he had. “It’ll keep you from closing your legs.”

The implications of that hit Wyatt, and visibly so. He shivered like a bitterly cold wind had just blown through him.

“Would you like that?” Flynn asked.

Lucy walked over with a bar, one with soft inner lining on the cuffs. Flynn couldn’t help himself—he gently wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

Lucy pressed into the kiss, humming happily, then planted an extra one on him for good measure before he could pull away. “And what was that for?” she asked.

“I love you,” Flynn answered.

Lucy’s smile was everything.

He didn’t know how to explain—but then, he wasn’t sure he had to. All those little moments that just reminded him of how goddamn much he loved her, of how he was so grateful, despite his lack of confidence that he deserved it, that his life was intertwined with hers. This time it was the knowledge that Lucy always ensured his and Wyatt’s comfort in scenes, that she would do something like pick the spreader bar with soft faux fur cuff lining so that there wouldn’t be any chafing, that she always, always thought about their welfare. It was why he trusted her enough to have her be in control—her compassion, her kind heart, was always on display.

He couldn’t have found the words to say all of this. He wasn’t sure that anyone could, not really. But he was lucky in that despite the fumbling along the way, Lucy understood now. She knew how much he loved her.

Flynn looked over at Wyatt, to see what Wyatt thought. Wyatt ran his fingers over the bar, especially over the cuffs, testing the feel of it.

“It’s adjustable,” Lucy said, showing him how the bar could be lengthened or collapsed. “So we can have fun with where we want to put it on.”

Wyatt flushed, then nodded.

“Words, Wyatt,” Flynn reminded him casually.

“Yes, please,” Wyatt said, his voice rough. “I’d—yes.”

Lucy handed him the bar. “Then we’ll get it.” Her eyes lit onto something behind Wyatt and she dashed off.

Wyatt watched her go with a slightly worried look over her enthusiasm. Flynn just laughed. “It’s been forever since we were in one of these, she’s like a kid in a candy shop.”

“I think I’m good just with these,” Wyatt said, indicating the collar and bar.

“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Flynn promised him. “C’mere.”

Wyatt stepped forward, putting himself close enough that Flynn could wrap his arms around him. Wyatt had his hands full with the bar but leaned in to tuck his face into Flynn’s shoulder.

“We’re going to use as many toys as you’re okay with,” Flynn reassured him. “If you’re ready to incorporate something then we’ll do that. If you’re not ready, we won’t. And some things… they’re fun to look at in the shop and to imagine but they’re not something you actually take home with you. Or, well, that you don’t take home with you. Someone else might.”

He felt Wyatt nod, take a deep breath, and then straighten up. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“For what? Being a considerate partner? It’s called basic decency.”

Wyatt shrugged. “I guess I still kind of worry I’m going to be too much trouble for you guys. Y’know. You two know so much and I know nothing and I’m kind of… I mean it’s obvious I’m still nervous about all of this.”

“We were all beginners once, _štene_ ,” Flynn reminded him. “We’re—we think we’re lucky, that you trust us enough to do this with you.”

Wyatt smiled at him, bashful and pleased at the same time, and Flynn just had to lean in and kiss him, too.

He pulled back just in time to hear Lucy ask the saleswoman if they happened to have any books on sex positions for three people, “but two men and one woman instead of the other way around, given the straight male fetish for two women together I’m sure you’ve got a couple of those already.”

Flynn closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

When they got to the checkout, the saleswoman’s eyes lit up. “Back again with your partners, I see,” she said to Wyatt.

“Ah, yeah.” Wyatt gestured at the woman. “This is Gail. Gail this is, uh, Flynn and Lucy, guys Gail helped me out last time.”

“He didn’t seem to think he’d have a partner any time soon,” Gail said, grinning conspiratorially.

Flynn slid his hand into Wyatt’s back pocket. “Glad we could prove him wrong.”

Wyatt’s blush was everything.

 

* * *

 

Lucy and Wyatt sprawled out on the sofa. Wyatt outwardly looked pretty calm, but Lucy was lying with her back to his chest so she could feel his rapid heartbeat and knew that was a lie.

Flynn was picking Gabriel up from the airport.

Lucy tried to focus on grading papers, as Wyatt pretended to watch the football game on the television, but her mind was really on the essays in front of her.

Flynn had asked to pick up Gabriel by himself, to take the time to explain to his brother why things were strained, and Lucy respected that. She’d had to take time alone with Amy to explain how things were different for Lucy, how she’d lost Amy from existence and had fought to get her back.

But she wished she was there, if only to hold Flynn’s hand and lend him silent support.

There was the sound of tires and Wyatt jolted underneath her. Lucy sat up, setting aside the papers.

Footsteps sounded up the walk and then the door opened.

Flynn entered, cast his gaze over to her, and then walked through the house straight into the backyard.

Lucy looked at Wyatt. He had the same kind of _well shit_ look on his face that she was sure her own face held.

A moment later Gabriel entered.

Gabriel Thompkins was a bit shorter than Flynn, and with darker coloring, but the family resemblance was undeniable. Both boys had clearly taken after their mother. Lucy personally thought that Flynn was the handsomer of the two, but then, she was wildly in love with Flynn so that probably colored her judgment somewhat.

“Gabriel,” she said brightly, aware that someone here had to break the awkward silence and Wyatt was notoriously shit at that. Lucy got up from the couch. “Wyatt, can you take his bags up to the guest room?”

Wyatt scrambled, and the look of confusion and suspicion on Gabriel’s face at another man relaxing on the couch and putting things in the guest room would’ve been amusing if Lucy hadn’t been worried about Flynn. “How was your flight?” she asked.

Gabriel closed the front door behind him. “Lucy, I’m going to be honest with you here.”

Wyatt, who was halfway up the stairs with Gabriel’s suitcase, paused.

Lucy tilted her head, donning the expression she’d gotten used to wearing around historical men she’d had to convince to listen to her when they traveled back in time. “Yes?”

“I think Flynn needs help.”

“…help.”

Gabriel sighed, glancing behind her to see if Flynn was going to reappear. “He’s telling me that time travel is the explanation for his behavior. Time travel? I don’t know how you two met or what he told you about his past life, but—”

“Are you suggesting that you think Flynn is insane?” Lucy hissed. Anger boiled up in her and she had to shove it down to keep it from spilling over into her voice and face.

“Either that or he thinks I’m incredibly stupid,” Gabriel replied. “What else am I supposed to think when my brother tells me that an evil organization that no longer exists killed his wife and child and that’s why he went on the run and that he spent two years traveling through history and that’s how he met and fell in love with you—and I’m not even touching the undercover at a sex club part of it—”

“Garcia is not insane,” Lucy snapped. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. “I can understand why you would think that, but I promise you, he’s telling you the truth.”

“Did you—is this a mass delusion?” Gabriel asked.

“Okay,” Wyatt said, and Lucy jumped. She hadn’t realized Wyatt had walked over. “Lucy, get the damn car keys.”

“What?”

“We’re taking him to Mason,” Wyatt said. “You want proof, right? So did Jess. We’ll take him to Mason, and it’ll prove Garcia’s not crazy.”

Lucy looked over at Gabriel, who was eyeing Wyatt like Wyatt might bite him. “And who are you?”

“I’m W—”

“I know your name, we met on Skype. I’m asking who you are to them.”

Wyatt flushed, then looked at Lucy.

“I’m not sure I want to tell you,” Lucy said lightly. “Given your judgment so far. Why don’t we take you on a drive, and we’ll show you proof that what Garcia says is right. If you still don’t believe us, then we’ll drive you to the airport and you never have to talk to any of us again. But if you do believe us…”

“You’ll go and give your brother an apology,” Wyatt finished. “Because he hasn’t been through hell and back so that you or anyone else could dismiss him.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Well. He always did like them feisty.”

He gestured at the front door. “Go on, then. I’d love to see you prove this.”

Wyatt took a step forward, clearly not liking the sarcastic undertone in Gabriel’s voice. Lucy grabbed Wyatt’s elbow. “Stop,” she ordered softly.

Wyatt stepped back, his jaw clenching. Lucy squeezed his elbow reassuringly and then let go. “Garcia?” she called. “We’re taking Gabriel to the store to get groceries, we’ll be back!”

“Groceries?” Wyatt mouthed.

“I’m not wasting an hour debating this back and forth with him,” Lucy replied. “In the car, both of you, Wyatt you’re driving.”

Wyatt grinned as she tossed him the keys, hearing the implicit _break all the speed limits_ in her tone. “Yes, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled up at Mason Industries and Wyatt just about stormed into the building. “Um, excuse me—” some poor hapless security guard started.

“Wyatt Logan,” Wyatt snapped. “I’ve got clearance. So does she.” He nodded at Lucy. “This here is our guest.”

He didn’t grab Gabriel to drag him into the time machine hanger bay but he was sure as hell tempted to.

Calling Flynn crazy? Suggesting that Flynn would make up a ludicrous lie or that Flynn had suffered such a psychotic break that he would make up a story like that in his head—and that Lucy would go along with it, either in lying to Gabriel or enabling Flynn’s delusions, that Lucy could be so complicit and manipulating…

It boiled his blood. And once he would’ve handled that anger a lot more badly than he was now, but like hell was he just going to stand by and let Gabriel talk about Flynn like Flynn was deranged.

“Um, Wyatt?” Rufus emerged into the hallway, Jiya behind him, as Wyatt led Lucy and Gabriel into the hanger. “What are you doing here, buddy? And who’s that?”

“This is Gabriel,” Lucy explained. “Flynn’s brother.”

“Power up the Mothership,” Wyatt said. “We’re taking him on a trip.” World War II, maybe? Somewhere that would make it pretty obvious they’d gone back in time. The Crusades?

“Oh, sorry,” Rufus said, putting his hands on his hips. “I wasn’t aware that you were my boss now.”

“We need to take him back in time to prove that time travel is real.”

“And you thought just barging in here would accomplish that.”

“Would you like me to throw a _please_ in there?”

“What is this all about?” Jiya asked, interrupting their sassing. “Where’s Flynn?”

“At home,” Lucy said. “Listen, Rufus, please, he thinks Flynn is crazy.”

“I mean Flynn is crazy,” Rufus said. “Just not about time travel.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel interrupted. “But I have the distinct feeling I’ve been kidnapped. What exactly is going on here?”

“What’s going on here is Wyatt is once again displaying his fantastic lack of planning and foresight when he’s trying to make a grand gesture,” Rufus snapped.

“Rufus, please,” Lucy interjected before Wyatt could turn this from just friends snapping at each other into a real fight, even though he knew that Rufus had a point with that comment. “He has to know that Flynn is telling the truth. He deserves to believe Flynn.”

“Look,” Gabriel said, stepping away from all of them, “I appreciate that you’re trying to give Garcia some credibility here. But nothing is going to change the fact that his wife and child died and I had to find out from Lorena’s mother. And that Flynn vanished off the face of the earth. And now he wants to give me an excuse to make up for all the worrying I did—”

“We understand that it was painful—” Lucy started.

Wyatt kind of, well.

He lost patience.

“Your brother is one of the greatest men I have ever met,” Wyatt snapped. “He’s put up with more bullshit than almost anyone else I know. Except my best friend.” None of them deserved Rufus. “He risked everything for his family and to save hundreds of lives and he knew he was going to have to be an asshole to do it and he was the only person ready to make that sacrifice. He knew everyone would make him a villain and he didn’t care. He was the only person who did what had to be done, he was the only person standing up against Rittenhouse, and he paid the price for it, more than any of us. My buddy Rufus here? Died and got to come back. Got his girl and his mom and his brother. Garcia will never get Lorena and Iris back. I got Jess back, I got my baby girl, Lucy got her sister. Garcia will never get the people he loves again. And he didn’t let it break him and he built a new life and now he’s got people who love him and appreciate him like he deserves.

“So I really think he’s been through enough bullshit that he shouldn’t have to deal with more of it. So either you trust us for two goddamn seconds and let us prove to you that this is real, and you go back with us and you apologize and you give him the brother he deserves, or you get the fuck out of his life. Because after he risked his whole goddamn existence to save you, he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your ungrateful ass.”

“Save me?” Gabriel’s forehead puckered, similar to how Flynn’s would when he was caught off guard. “What are you even talking about?”

Wyatt blew out a breath in frustration. “On July 20th, 1969, you died.”

Gabriel looked even more confused. “What? Clearly I didn’t.”

“It was the day of the moon landing,” Wyatt said. “And you did die. In the original timeline. You’re deathly allergic to bees.”

A strange light came into Gabriel’s eyes. “The day of the moon landing… there was a man, he bought me ice cream, I remember…”

“Yeah. And I bet if you remember hard enough, you’ll remember he looked just like your brother.” Wyatt held his hand up in a half-wave. “And you’ll remember I came in and shot at him. Flynn messed with the entire moon landing operation to distract us so that he could save you, because your mom never got over your death and he wanted to make her happy. She left the U.S. because she was so upset, met Asher, had Garcia. Garcia risked that never happening, he risked never being born, so that your sorry ass would live and your mom would be happy.”

“Garcia always wanted a brother,” Lucy added softly behind them. “He told me later on that when he got back to the present and found that you were happy and living in Paris… it was the first time he was really happy since he’d lost his family. Knowing he’d made his mom happy, and that you were safe.”

“You could be making this up,” Gabriel pointed out.

“How the fuck would any of us know about your near-death experience?” Wyatt snapped. “Huh?” He gestured at the Mothership. “This, this is how we know. I can even tell you what Garcia was wearing that day if it’ll prove I’m not lying. And I will make Mason himself take you in that goddamn tin can. Do not test me.”

“Why would we go to all this trouble to lie to you?” Lucy pointed out. “This machine, this facility, how would we know about it, why would we drag you here and lie to you about all that it can do? Do you think anyone is really that dedicated to a lie? And would the people working here let us bring you and tell you all this if we were just lying about it? What could that possibly serve anyone?”

“I know you don’t know us,” Jiya added, “but why would the two of us, total strangers, lie to you?”

“There is nothing that Flynn has done that could be made easier by saying time travel is real,” Lucy said. “It’s ludicrous, I know. But it’s so ludicrous it has to be true.”

Wyatt was too angry to be gentle. “If you don’t want to get on the damn ship, fine. But if you don’t believe Garcia after all this, then you don’t deserve him as a brother anyway.”

“Wyatt!” Lucy chastised.

“It’s true,” Wyatt growled. He didn’t care if it was hurtful or not. His loyalty was to Flynn, not to this guy he’d just met, even if he was Flynn’s brother. “Garcia deserves to be heard out, at least. I’m not saying he didn’t screw you over a bit but he’s not your Garcia. He doesn’t remember any of that. And he sacrificed a lot to make sure you can have your fancypants apartment in Paris so maybe you should be a little more grateful.”

Gabriel glared at him, clearly not appreciating Wyatt’s tone. Wyatt glared back.

“We’re not going to force you to go anywhere,” Lucy said, stepping in between the two of them, her hands held up placatingly. “But we can take you on a trip, if you’d like. Or we could just take you home, if you feel this is proof enough. This place, this machine, Wyatt’s testimony.”

Gabriel looked at Lucy, then at the Mothership. “I can’t pretend I’m eager to get into that thing,” he said. “And I did nearly die from a bee sting in 1969. A man who made friends with my mother saved me. We never saw him after that—and she never really spoke about him, but—it fits, some things she said, the way she behaved. Why she was so determined to marry Asher. She must’ve recognized the last name and known…”

He shook his head. “Anyway. It fits. I can’t pretend that I understand, but clearly Garcia has done something to inspire such dedication from the two of you.”

Wyatt felt his face heating up. Gabriel said ‘dedication’ but the way he looked at Lucy and Wyatt as he said it—Wyatt had a feeling that Gabriel suspected there was more to Wyatt’s relationship with Flynn and Lucy than just a typical friendship.

“Great,” Rufus said, folding his arms. “You go back and patch things up with your brother, who is a great guy by the way, cranky but great, and you two go with him, and leave the rest of us normal people to do our work, okay?”

“Sorry,” Lucy told Rufus, and then she ushered Gabriel towards the door.

“By the way,” Rufus commented quietly to Wyatt. “Not doing so great at the whole hiding your feelings thing when you make passionate speeches like that.”

“Thank you, Rufus, that makes me feel so much better.”

Rufus just waved at him as Wyatt hurried to catch up to Lucy and Gabriel.

 

* * *

 

Flynn looked up as he heard the door open. He’d planned on making dinner that evening but now he was just staring at a recipe book like it was written in Dutch.

He spoke a lot of languages but Dutch was not one of them.

Gabriel entered, Lucy and Wyatt trooping in behind him.

Flynn quickly closed the recipe book. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Gabriel glanced at the other two, who were definitely hovering. “Can we talk?”

“Of course. Uh… why don’t we go out back?”

Lucy and Wyatt’s worried expressions followed them out the back door to the porch.

Gabriel sat down on the steps, Flynn seating himself next to him. “Where did you go?”

“I was taken to Mason Industries,” Gabriel said, switching to Croatian. It wasn’t his native language, but he’d spent enough time there to be able to speak it fluently.

…oh fuck. “They didn’t—did they make you—”

“Wyatt seemed rather determined to get me onto this thing called the Mothership,” Gabriel noted. “But cooler heads prevailed.”

“I assume those cooler heads were named Rufus and Jiya,” Flynn said dryly.

“I believe so.”

Flynn sighed. “Wyatt is rather—impulsive and hotheaded.”

“Yes, I noticed.” Gabriel paused. “He cares for you, deeply. He said you were one of the greatest men he’d ever met.”

Flynn’s stomach flipped. “He did?”

“Yes.” Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, as though Wyatt and Lucy might have pressed their faces to the glass sliding door to try and spy on them. “I wasn’t aware you’d gotten a second spouse when I wasn’t looking.”

“It’s… a new development.” He didn’t bother denying it. He might have, once, but he was trying to be honest with Gabriel and win his trust and denying the obvious relationship between himself and Wyatt and Lucy seemed like a bad step in the wrong direction. “He’s just moved in.”

“And you… worked with him, on the time travel.”

“Yes, he was a part of the team.”

“He said you saved my life.” Gabriel’s forehead creased, like he was struggling to recall something. “And the craziest thing is, what he said… matched things I remember. Things I hadn’t really thought about in years.”

“I didn’t really want Mom to know,” Flynn admitted. “But then Wyatt came in guns blazing and she needed an explanation so I told her—I told her just enough, I think, for her to put the pieces together.”

“They said she left America because of my death. That you… might have come back to a world where you didn’t exist.”

Flynn nodded. “I was trying to stop Rittenhouse but I was growing… disillusioned with the idea that I ever could. I felt that I was failing and that I would never get my revenge, and that my girls would never get justice. So I thought—well if nothing else I can at least make my mom happy.

“So I went back. Spent the day with her. She was so young and carefree, she had the whole world in front of her. I told her some of what I was going through and she gave me the determination to keep on going. She gave me faith.”

“She was good at that kind of thing,” Gabriel said, a faint smile on his face.

“She was.” Flynn smiled back, tentative. “I was almost disappointed to come back and learn I still existed. That she’d still married Asher.”

“Ah.” Gabriel’s face darkened. “I can understand why.”

“I wanted her to be happy.”

“She was, after I got you away from him,” Gabriel replied. “And you made her happy. And I made her happy. She was proud of us, I know that. Her death was… hard. I think it broke us, a bit, or made it more obvious that we were broken. Lorena got us back together but then… I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about their deaths, or that you were on the run.”

“I can’t speak for my other self—”

“But you did it, too,” Gabriel pointed out. “You didn’t reach out to me, when you got back. When it was all over, and this Rittenhouse was defeated.”

Flynn had to concede that point. How could he begin to talk about how it had felt, the way he had felt like an imposter whenever he’d even thought about calling Gabriel?

“I didn’t want to pretend to be someone that I wasn’t,” Flynn explained. “I didn’t want—I couldn’t come in and pretend that I knew you when I didn’t. I didn’t want to lie to you. But I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. So I just… stayed away. And I think I did you a disservice, in that.”

Gabriel seemed to mull that over.

“I felt like I would be a stranger wearing the face of… of someone you knew. That I would be an imposter. And that felt wrong. But how was I supposed to—well.”

“I sort of proved your point there, didn’t I?” Gabriel asked. “I told Lucy you were crazy. That you needed mental help.”

“Well. I probably do. But not because I concocted that crazy of a story.”

Gabriel laughed quietly. Flynn tried to memorize that—to learn all of his brother’s mannerisms, to make up for a lifetime of not knowing them.

“Thank you,” Flynn added. “For burying them. I couldn’t… I wanted to be there. But I had to run. I’m sorry that I… I’m sure the other version of me, I’m sure he thought that he was protecting you by not telling you anything. He was probably terrified that Rittenhouse would go after you as well. I know I would have been. But I’m sorry to have left you in the dark. In any timeline.”

“I was too hard on you sometimes,” Gabriel replied, his voice a little raw. “I tried to replace Asher and his shitty example and I tried too hard to be a parent when what you needed was a brother. And then you enlisted right after Mom died and… I was too proud, and we said things and I never—I wanted to take them back but I never did.” He gave a rueful smile. “Perhaps this is a good thing. We get to start over, with a clean slate.”

“I’d like that,” Flynn whispered. “And, ah, again, apologies for Wyatt and Lucy.”

“They love you,” Gabriel replied. “I can’t be angry with them for that.”

Flynn blinked rapidly as his vision blurred, turning to look out at the sinking sun. “I’m not sure why, but yes. I’m… I’m lucky. Including in having a brother. I always wondered, growing up, what my life would be like if you’d lived. What having a brother would be like.”

“Well now you get to find out. It involves a lot of roasting.”

“I look forward to it,” Flynn said, looking over at him and grinning.

He really did.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt looked up as Flynn entered the living room. He and Lucy had dutifully ordered takeout and had set it all up to stay warm in the oven, and were now pretending to be engrossed in their political thriller and their biography on Cesare Borgia, respectively.

“You two can stop staring blankly at your books, now,” Flynn noted.

Lucy set her book down on her lap while Wyatt put his on the coffee table. “How did it go?” Lucy asked him.

Wyatt’s heart hammered in his throat. He hoped that his yelling hadn’t made it worse. He wanted Gabriel to see what they all saw in Flynn, he wanted Flynn to catch a goddamn break.

Flynn reached down as Lucy reached up, their hands meeting, fingers tangling. “He apologized for thinking I was crazy,” Flynn said. “And he said he wants to get to know this version of me. And… I apologized for being scared and not going to him sooner.”

“How were you supposed to even explain it to him?” Wyatt demanded.

Flynn looked at him with this—this sort of expression that Wyatt dared to call fond. “He told me you dragged him to Mason Industries, lectured him, and then tried to throw him into a time machine.”

“…I wouldn’t have _thrown_ him,” Wyatt protested.

“I wouldn’t have let him,” Lucy added, which Wyatt had to admit carried a bit more weight than his own protests.

Flynn walked around and sat in the middle of the couch. Lucy immediately sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. Wyatt’s throat got tight as he watched Flynn return the hug, the two of them breathing together, wrapped up in each other.

“I should probably be telling you two that I didn’t need you to kidnap my brother,” Flynn noted, pulling away but keeping one arm around Lucy, “but thank you.”

He looked at Wyatt, and then got an odd look on his face and held out his hand.

Wyatt took it, and nearly fell over as Flynn tugged and he lost his balance, saved only by Flynn catching him and pulling him in for a tight hug that had Wyatt nearly in Flynn’s lap.

“Thank you,” Flynn murmured. He pulled back just enough to take Wyatt’s face in his hands. “You didn’t have to stand up for me.”

“Of course I did,” Wyatt replied automatically, his mouth dry. Of course he did. He owed Flynn, after he’d been such an asshole to him for so long, and how could he not, when he knew how much Flynn deserved good, when he wanted so badly for Flynn to be happy. As if he could have just stood there and let all that happen.

Flynn surprised him with a kiss, soft, aching, and Wyatt felt something in his chest cracking open as he gave himself over to it. “We might have to let you stick around after all,” Flynn teased quietly once he pulled away.

Lucy kissed Flynn on the cheek, and then Wyatt on the mouth. “Of course we stood up for you, darling, now c’mon, I’m starving.”

_We might have to let you stick around after all._

God, he hoped they would let him.


	13. Chapter 13

The morning that Flynn drove Gabriel to the airport, he had to sit in the car for a bit afterwards.

It just… hit him, all at once, in a way that it hadn’t before—he had a brother.

He had a _brother_.

What was more, despite the rocky start, that brother loved him. Gabriel had tried to make that clear, in painfully awkward overtures through the week he’d stayed. Angry with Flynn, yes. Confused, certainly. Unsure of how to connect with someone fourteen years younger, someone to whom he had not quite been a parent and yet not quite a typical brother, someone who was now a completely different version of the man he’d known… definitely.

But Gabriel had wanted to try, and that was all that Flynn cared about. God knew he was just as out of practice being a sibling and he might (definitely) have messaged Rufus in a panic before realizing that Rufus was more likely to understand Gabriel’s position than Flynn’s and had then messaged Amy.

Lucy and Wyatt had been tactful, going out on walks just the two of them or babysitting Joy out of the house, leaving Gabriel and Flynn plenty of time to fumble their way back into a relationship.

As they’d said goodbye at the airport, hugging—and it had taken a few times of that for Flynn not to feel stiff and gangly like he was a teenager with oversized feet and hands and too many limbs all over again—Gabriel had asked him to possibly come to Paris in the summer, just him. Not that Wyatt and Lucy weren’t welcome, of course, but the twins would be born by then and he wouldn’t ask Garcia to fly with babies like that, and perhaps it would be nice just the two of them, and then when the twins were older…

Just the fact that Gabriel had wanted to see him again had been enough.

Flynn sat in the car, his chest heaving a little, and realized with a shaky laugh that he was crying. His brother wanted to see him again. And just with him, without delightful and diplomatic Lucy or loud, distracting Wyatt as buffers.

Maybe he was doing something right after all.

 

* * *

 

Today was the day.

Lucy couldn’t stop shivering in anticipation. The first time she’d suggested double penetration to Flynn—making it clear that she meant two cocks inside her vagina because she’d meant it when she said nothing was going in the back door, thanks—Flynn had tenderly wrapped his arms around her, lovingly kissed her, and said, “My joy, my heart, my life… what the fuck.”

“I did it in college,” she’d explained. “With Sara.”

Sara had been her college girlfriend and the person who’d introduced Lucy to the world of BDSM.

“But that was two dildos and it wasn’t the same and please? We’d be safe about it, and I know you two wouldn’t hurt me.”

Flynn had eventually given in, but only after Lucy had found some other people who’d done it and could assure Flynn that it was worth it, for them at least, and then they’d had to talk to Wyatt about it and convince him that they weren’t in fact going to break Lucy’s cervix or something.

And today they were finally doing it.

Lucy got through classes that day just fine—there was always more work to do, even when she’d thought she’d gotten through all of it, and every time she started to relax she’d find another ten emails in her inbox letting her know that she was, in fact, once again behind the eight ball—but when she finally got out to her car, that shiver was back.

She liked being in charge. She hadn’t known just how much for a long time, and now that she did know it made everything else so much easier. The rush she got when Flynn relaxed and did as she told him, or the sight of Wyatt on his knees gazing expectantly up at her—she wouldn’t trade those for anything.

But it meant that she didn’t always get that overwhelmed feeling that she so loved, that feeling of being close to overloading, of being pushed to the brink. And Lucy would be the first to admit she was a size queen.

It was about time she got to do this.

When she got home, she had a little time before Flynn and Wyatt got there. Wyatt was finishing up some time with Joy, and Flynn had left the office after she’d left campus.

Perfect.

Lucy took a nice hot shower, dried her hair, spread out on the bed, and had herself some nice quality time. They had to give her an orgasm anyway to loosen and relax her so why not get started?

She ran her hand slowly down her body, feeling the way the cold air after the shower made her shiver. The boys would be home soon… it would be their hands on her, their mouths on her, they’d be inside her, both of them, stretching her wide…

Lucy pinched a nipple, rolled it between her fingers, teasing her other hand along her thigh, trying not to rush it. Letting the anticipation build.

No matter how much she prepped herself, Flynn was going to want to touch her, to make sure, because he’d never risk hurting her—she slid a finger through her folds, felt how wet she was starting to get, imagined Flynn’s fingers inside of her, skimming along her body—

“Lucy?” That was Flynn, and a moment later she heard Wyatt asking him something—they must’ve arrived within moments of each other.

“Upstairs,” she called. She slid a finger inside of herself, breath hitching, her other hand moving to her right breast—she bit her lip, teasing herself with her finger, avoiding her clit, savoring—

There was a muffled thud as Wyatt ran into Flynn. Lucy turned her head to see Flynn frozen in the doorway, his eyes black, his jaw clenched. Wyatt was behind him, his jaw dropped wide open.

Lucy slid her hand out of herself, knowing it would be slick and shining, and that the boys could see that as she curled her fingers in a _come here_ gesture.

“Jesus Christ,” Flynn blurted out, swearing additionally in Croatian for good measure, stumbling over to her like she was a magnet. Wyatt moved as if in a trance, kneeling down at the end of the bed between her legs, his chest heaving like he’d just finished running a race.

Lucy reached down, sliding her hand through Wyatt’s hair. “Go on, sweetheart,” she told him.

Wyatt flushed, the way he did whenever she used one of their pet names for him, and bent down, kissing up her legs, his hands curving around her ankles, stroking lightly at the sensitive, thin skin there.

Flynn gave a pained groan and bent down, kissing her hungrily. Lucy had never believed, before Flynn, that someone could truly be overwhelmed by the beauty of another person. And yet that was the only explanation for the way that Flynn looked at her, touched her, kissed her—like he was beyond words because of her.

It was exhilarating and humbling at the same time.

Flynn slid his hand along her stomach, pressing down slightly, keeping her still as Wyatt bit down on her thigh, making her jolt.

“ _Draga_ ,” Flynn murmured against her lips, pulling away at last and kissing her neck, the slope of her shoulder, right between her breasts. His voice was rough, the way it got when he almost forgot what speech was. Lucy tried to arch up into his touch, but Flynn kept her solidly pinned, preventing her from doing anything other than squirm as Wyatt finally started to lick at her.

Lucy made good use of her hands being free, yanking at Flynn until he came back up to kiss her properly. She was not going to just lie here passively, thanks, no matter how lovely and wanted the attention might be.

Flynn kissed her, grunting slightly when Wyatt curled his tongue into her and Lucy bit Flynn’s lip instinctively in response. “Feisty,” Flynn teased her.

“You like me that way,” Lucy countered, gasping as Wyatt curled his fingers into her. Yes, fingers, stretching her, and then… she shivered violently.

“Easy now,” Flynn said.

“I’ll show you easy,” Lucy grumbled.

Flynn kissed her cheek, and Wyatt bit down lightly on her clit, making Lucy yelp.

“Good boy,” Flynn praised, chuckling when Lucy glared at him.

Wyatt didn’t focus on stretching her—his job was to get her off, and then Flynn would take over. Since Flynn had fisted her already, he was better prepared to get Lucy ready to take a seemingly-impossible stretch.

 _Seemingly-impossible_ being Flynn’s dismayed words, not hers. Lucy was quite confident she’d be fine, thanks.

Unable to walk for a day or two, but fine. That was why they were doing this on a Friday.

Wyatt flicked his tongue, relentless, over and over until Lucy felt herself spiraling out of control, crying out, tugging hard on Flynn’s and Wyatt’s hair as Flynn kissed his way down her body, ready to take over.

Wyatt pulled back, grinning, mouth slick and abused, and then Flynn was moving into place and Wyatt was stripping and mmm, now _that_ was a show.

Flynn slid his fingers into her, working her open, twisting, scissoring, stretching her bit by bit as Lucy rode that slick, ecstatic wave. At one point Wyatt helped her to sit up, and slid around her, getting ready—and Lucy felt Flynn adding another finger, starting to stretch her just that bit more—God she was about to do this they were about to do this she could hardly breathe—

Flynn pulled back, climbing onto the bed, skin already looking flushed just from watching her, touching her.

“You sure?” he asked.

Lucy nodded, wrapping her arms around both of them, urging them on. “ _Please_.”

Wyatt slid in first, and she adjusted easily, humming, rocking into him, spreading her legs—and then Flynn’s hands were on her thighs—spreading her entrance—starting to enter her—she moaned—

There was a moment that she hadn’t felt in a decade, a moment of _oh fuck what have I agreed to this is insane_ , but Flynn was slow and careful, whispering to Wyatt to help shift her, shift them, inch by inch, until her mouth dropped open and a low, keening cry escaped her.

This was—oh God oh God _yes_ this was what she’d wanted, this was what she’d imagined, fantasized, planned for. They were both in her, they were _alive_ in her, shifting, hot, hard, sliding against each other, against _her_. It was much better than when she’d done it with Sara, with the toys, this had her already so high she wasn’t sure if she was starting to orgasm or if she’d perhaps even shot past that.

“How do you feel?” Flynn whispered, clearly still concerned.

The word came out as a helpless, wanton moan. “ _Full_.” Oh, God, so full, stretched, pushed to the brink, right at the edge of her breaking point and loving it, loving it, oh _God_.

Wyatt made a helpless little whimper.

Lucy shifted, testing, and cried out sharply as the sensation spiked. Fuck, they were pressed up everywhere, in every spot, rubbing right up against all the places that made her scream, and it was so much, almost too much but so good so good so _good_.

She moved, staying in control, tiny little thrusts that sent every inch of her on fire. Wyatt buried his face in her shoulder, giving choked whines, clearly losing his mind, while Flynn kept his eyes fixed on her face. His mouth was open, his eyes blown black, but he was keeping an eye on her, transfixed by her, like he not only wanted to make sure she was okay but also couldn’t look away.

Her legs shook, and she couldn’t stop making noise, little helpless mewls with each thrust. She was starting to get a rhythm, dragging their cocks hard and fast inside of her and her mewls were getting higher, louder, turning into screams. Flynn was watching her, clearly worried that it was pain, but it wasn’t, it was so very good, she was starting to lose the rhythm and just writhe helplessly as the men held her together, kept her from falling apart.

Lucy didn’t know where her body ended, where the outer world began. It felt like her fingertips were melting into the air. She clawed at Flynn, at Wyatt, stroking, thrusting, grinding, stuffed, stretched, _God_ , sobbing as she crested wave after wave after wave and hung there, suspended, like a star.

 

* * *

 

Holy _shit_.

Wyatt lay there, panting, watching as Lucy shivered, mouth open, her voice gone beyond even the tiniest of mews, the aftershocks of orgasm still working through her.

That had been—holy fuck.

He’d expected to enjoy, y’know, the whole being in Lucy at the same time as Flynn thing, and he had. Feeling Flynn’s cock against his, that was always a jolt of heat straight through him but being inside Lucy at the same moment? Surrounded on all sides, tied together in every way, with the two people he loved? All three of them together, tangled, locked in—it was hot as fuck and did dangerous things to his heart on top of it.

So of course he’d enjoyed it. He’d do it again, if Lucy had been at all up to it, which she clearly wasn’t going to be for a while. Wyatt doubted she’d even be up to standing on two feet for the rest of the day.

But what he hadn’t expected was to want to be Lucy.

_How do you feel?_

_Full._

The tone in her voice—Wyatt dared to call it ravished. It was a stupid and cliché word if you asked him but it was also the only one he could think of that properly conveyed the wrecked, raw, lush, satisfied layers in Lucy’s voice in that moment.

He could remember how it had first felt to have the toy inside him, and then to have Flynn, that shivery stretched feeling, and wondered… Lucy had seemed to like it, which was an understatement, actually, and the more Wyatt thought about it, about being pushed to that limit…

Wyatt pushed himself up, taking the warm washcloth that Flynn passed him, and gently helped Lucy to get clean as Flynn made her drink water. “Garcia?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think… do you think maybe we could… uh, try that on me sometime?”

Flynn looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Lucy gave a small, tired giggle. “Could work if we use one of the smaller vibrators,” she noted, yawning.

“Don’t encourage him!”

Wyatt pouted, which he had learned was almost a surefire way to get Flynn to agree to what he wanted.

Flynn rolled his eyes. “Now I’ve got two of you. You know you’re a bad influence.” This last bit was directed at Lucy.

Lucy stretched languidly, looking for all the world like a spoiled cat. “Mmm, I think it’ll be fun.”

Flynn grumbled something about how if he had to drive one of them to the hospital someday, but there was no heat in his voice, and Wyatt knew that Flynn would give in, as he always did.

Lucy fell asleep not long after, but Wyatt and Flynn weren’t quite as worn out and stayed up for a little while, doing some work and then just talking. But that image of Lucy as they’d pushed into her stayed in the back of Wyatt’s mind, the noise she’d made, and oh God, did he want that. So very badly.

 

* * *

 

The next day Stacy was finally coming over for dinner, which meant Lucy got to take full advantage of her, quote, ‘delicate state’ and order them around from the couch while she had to do no work whatsoever.

Wyatt did not see how this was fair in the slightest but he wasn’t about to complain.

He knew that he shouldn’t be as worried as he was about Stacy. It was just, well, Stacy. She was friends with all of them, this wasn’t some fancy dinner, this wasn’t Gabriel visiting all the way from Paris, they could afford to be casual.

But he couldn’t stop worrying.

Gabriel seeing the three of them together was one thing. He was Flynn’s brother and so he was important, clearly, but he wasn’t in their usual circle. He lived in Paris for crying out loud. Stacy lived right in town and was perfectly capable of (and willing to) gossip about the three of them to the others.

Wyatt felt like a bug under a microscope, with Jess knowing about the sexual arrangement and probably suspecting Wyatt’s deeper feelings, and Rufus and Jiya knowing Wyatt’s feelings but not necessarily the sexual arrangement, and everyone else maybe not having confirmation but not being dumb either.

 If Flynn and Lucy noticed Wyatt’s jitters, they didn’t say anything, and thank God for that. Wyatt didn’t know how to handle being in love with them and he sure as well wasn’t ready to end it all by telling them. God only knew what would happen when the twins were born…

Oh fuck, what _would_ happen when the twins were born?

There was a cheerful rap on the door and Wyatt hurried to answer it, since Flynn still had lemon and garlic all over his hands. “Coming!”

Stacy stepped in as he opened it, passing him a bottle of wine. “You clean up good, Logan.”

“Wish I could say the same for you.”

“Ha, ha, where are your better thirds?”

Lucy waved, still sitting on the couch, doing work. “Sorry about the mess of papers.”

“Oh, no problem, it’s just me.”

“You’re our guest.”

“I’ve seen you in nothing but a vintage corset, Lucy, I think we’re good.”

Wyatt nearly dropped the wine bottle. Stacy noticed and laughed, winking at him.

Flynn finished up with the food and Lucy got up off the couch, walking with only a little stiffness over to the table so they could all sit down and eat. Conversation was lively, and Wyatt tried not to start when Lucy’s foot nudged his under the table or Flynn gently touched Wyatt’s wrist.

It was good, though, really—that was what made him feel like a blinded horse, honestly. This whole thing between them… him living with them, all of them hanging out with Flynn’s brother together, making dinner and having guests over, picking out furniture for the nursery… it felt scarily normal and good. So good. Like he could have this for the rest of his life.

And he couldn’t.

Afterwards, Wyatt ended up alone with Stacy, clearing the dishes as Lucy went to the bathroom and Flynn got the dessert.

“Y’know something, Logan?” Stacy said.

“Yeah?”

“I like you. And I mean that.” She cocked her head. “I didn’t before. You weren’t the worst but you were a pain in the ass.”

Wyatt felt his face heating up and shrugged. “I don’t blame you. I was—I’ve changed. For the better. Sometimes I still don’t know if I’m the person I want to be. But I’m a lot closer to being that person and so I try to remember that.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You can thank those two for that. And Rufus. And Jess. Just… the people around me. It’s because of them. Calling me out on my bullshit and still being kind enough to—to let me back in when I’d straightened myself out.”

Stacy’s eyes softened. “You really love them, don’t you?”

She could’ve meant all of them, his friends and family, a general kind of love, but Wyatt knew what she meant. “…yeah. I really do.”

“Mmm.” Stacy put the dishes in the sink. “Remember, Wyatt, I saw Flynn and Lucy when they were being all besotted and pining in the club.”

“And?”

“It’s the same here. They’ve got it bad for you.”

Wyatt snorted, as Lucy emerged from the bathroom and immediately started teasing Flynn about something, the two of them smiling wide and starry-eyed at each other. “Yeah. I think you’re overestimating it, Martindale. No offense.”

Stacy looked like she wanted to say more, but Flynn and Lucy walked over, so she just settled for a glare.

 

* * *

 

Lucy was still out of commission, so to speak—nobody was going to stop her from orgasming but neither her nor Wyatt was planning on putting a dick into her for a few more days—so after Stacy left was the perfect opportunity to try out the new spreader bar.

Wyatt had looked a little off during dessert. Flynn wanted to ask if Stacy had said something to him, if she’d teased him and it’d fallen flat. Wyatt was sensitive, far more sensitive than he wanted to let on, and Stacy was good at pushing people’s buttons.

But once Stacy left and they’d cleaned up, Wyatt seemed to relax more. He splashed water back and forth with Lucy when they were supposed to be doing the dishes, tried to sneak an extra bit of cake while Flynn’s back was turned, and let Flynn kiss the frosting off his fingers.

All pent up and full of energy, whatever were they going to do with him?

Lucy all but dragged Wyatt up the stairs until she tripped, and Wyatt scooped her up to keep her from falling all the way, at which point he just carried her up the rest of the way as Lucy protested. Flynn watched them, blond and brunette, grinning wildly at each other, falling into a heap on the bed, and wished he could capture this moment in time.

That was something a time machine couldn’t do. It couldn’t preserve this moment, couldn’t enable him to relive it again and again the way he wanted to.

The next best thing was to make more of these moments happen—to make as many of them happen as he could.

Lucy beckoned him over. “You’re too far away,” she pouted.

“What a grievous oversight.” He walked over to her and let Lucy pull him down on top of her, kissing him fiercely. He’d drown in her if he could. Crawl into her slick, sweet mouth and never leave.

“I love you,” Lucy whispered, her hands framing his face. “So much, you’ve no idea—”

He pulled back just enough to grab Wyatt, yank him in, kiss him too. He didn’t want Wyatt to feel left out.

“Mmm get the bar,” Lucy ordered.

Flynn was a little occupied seeing how long Wyatt could hold his breath with Flynn’s tongue in his mouth.

“Garcia, darling, beloved, the spreader bar.”

“Mm, right, right.” Flynn pulled back, kissed Wyatt’s nose, and left him with a properly dazed look on his face as he went and got the spreader bar out.

Lucy made short work of her clothes and Wyatt’s, took the bar from Flynn so he could get undressed. Flynn watched, his stomach going tight and hot, as Lucy placed her hand gently on Wyatt’s chest and pressed him down onto the bed, kissing soothingly all over his stomach as she spread his legs and secured the spreader bar around his lower thighs, just above his knees.

“Do you want me to do your wrists, too?” Lucy asked, petting Wyatt’s cheek, still keeping him soothed. Flynn was in a place where he was comfortable in his submissiveness and with Lucy, but he could remember how it was with Josip when they’d first been fumbling their way through this, how his heart had hammered in his chest, skirting the line of panic, how he’d needed to be reassured and praised.

Wyatt nodded, fumbled, remembered himself. “Yes, please, ma’am.”

Lucy kissed him on the nose and Flynn obligingly passed her the rope. “Good boy. Arms above your head.”

Wyatt did as he was told and Lucy secured his hands to the head of the bed. Flynn preferred the silk ties over rope and couldn’t do handcuffs—hence the soft leather cuffs with fur—but Lucy liked the rope so they already had it ready and Wyatt didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“All secure?”

Wyatt tested the ropes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. How’s the bar feel? Not too tight?”

“No, it’s good.”

“Okay then.” Lucy kissed Wyatt on the cheek and pulled back, her hand lightly trailing down his chest. “Mmm, look at you, all spread out for us. I can’t wait to play with you.”

Then, without warning, she took Wyatt’s cock in her mouth.

Wyatt yelped, the sound melting into a moan, as Lucy licked him up and down, sucked just the head, took him down as far as she could, switching it up until Wyatt was making desperate, rhythmic whimpers in the back of his throat.

Flynn could feel himself going from half hard to ready to go, blood pulsing in his ears, watching, wanting. He crawled up to Wyatt and kissed him, slid his tongue right inside, unable to keep from tasting those pretty little noises.

He felt Wyatt jerk, and then Wyatt bit Flynn’s lip and Flynn growled. “Sorry, sorry,” Wyatt blurted out, panting, breathless.

“Shh, you’re good.” Flynn pet Wyatt’s hair, glancing down to see what had made that reaction.

Ah, Lucy had lubed up her fingers and was starting to have fun getting Wyatt nice and open.

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” Wyatt begged, and Flynn could see Wyatt trying to close his legs or move back or towards but he couldn’t, he was just stuck there, helpless as Lucy sucked at a mouthful of his skin and worked a finger into him.

Flynn made a soothing noise and tugged on Wyatt’s hair a little. Wyatt’s eyelids fluttered in response and he shuddered. “ _Prljav dečko_ ,” Flynn murmured, grinning. “Have a little patience.”

“What—what’s that mean?” Wyatt whispered, his wrists tugging uselessly and his legs shaking as Lucy kept teasing him.

Flynn grinned, then set his teeth to Wyatt’s neck, biting down. Wyatt moaned. “It means ‘dirty boy’,” Flynn told him, kissing Wyatt’s pulse point lightly.

“Jesus fuck,” Wyatt whispered hoarsely.

“Oh, do you not like it?” Flynn asked, looking at Wyatt with false concern.

Wyatt tried to glare at him and failed miserably. “…no.”

“Would you say that you… like it then?” Flynn lightly trailed his fingers along Wyatt’s chest, twisting one of his nipples.

Wyatt arched up, then looked very put out. “…yes.”

“Oh, good, I guess I’ll have to keep saying it then.”

Wyatt looked like he was going to say something smart ass, but then Flynn kissed him again and that did a good job of turning Wyatt back into an incoherent puddle.

“I can say it in English,” Flynn whispered. He trailed his fingers back up to Wyatt’s throat, wrapping his hand around, but not putting pressure on yet. His thumb stroked up and down and Wyatt shook, eyes wide and staring up at Flynn’s face, his mouth open, lips red and slick.

Flynn squeezed gently and Wyatt gasped, jolting. “Our pretty…” Flynn squeezed again, rhythmic, and Wyatt jerked, thrusting helplessly. “…dirty…” He squeezed once more and a high whine escaped Wyatt, his body trying to draw into itself and unable to. “…boy.”

“Garcia,” Lucy said, a note of warning in her voice.

Flynn released Wyatt’s throat and noticed Lucy had pulled her fingers out of him, petting Wyatt’s thighs to soothe him.

Wyatt whined mindlessly and Flynn kissed him softly all over his face, stroking his chest, as Lucy massaged Wyatt’s legs. Once Wyatt’s breathing evened out, Lucy started again, sliding her fingers into him and crooking, curling, seeking, until Wyatt made a choked _ung_ sound in the back of his throat and a sinful smile spread over her face.

“You can touch him again now, Garcia,” she ordered.

Flynn scratched his nails down Wyatt’s chest, sucking at his neck, until he closed his fist around Wyatt’s cock and stroked it loosely. “You’re just so greedy, aren’t you?” he growled. “Greedy and desperate.” He tugged on Wyatt’s earlobe with his teeth. “It’s beautiful.”

“Garcia.” Wyatt’s voice was raw. “Garcia _please_.”

Flynn wasn’t even sure Wyatt knew what he was pleading for. But… “Well since you asked so nicely…”

He moved down and swallowed Wyatt’s cock.

Wyatt sobbed out and Flynn’s own cock throbbed in response. He wanted to fuck him, fuck him until Wyatt forgot his own goddamn name.

He pulled back, his breathing harsh and hot in his chest.

“You want it,” Lucy whispered. “Look at you, such a desperate plaything, you want it so much you can’t even think.” She stroked Wyatt’s hair and Wyatt pressed up into the touch, still moving his hips desperately, and Flynn thought he might have an aneurysm.

She looked at Flynn. “Do you want to fuck him?”

“Yes.” The words felt like they were scraped up from the bottom of his feet.

Lucy looked at Wyatt. “And you want him to fuck you. You want him to be hard and rough and mess you up, get you all dirty? You want to show us just what a good pet you are and how much you need us, how good we make you feel?”

Wyatt whined, and Flynn started to worry that they’d pushed him beyond words—not a good thing, to get someone beyond words, to get them dropped so heavily into subspace. If a sub couldn’t communicate properly with a dom, then the scene had to end. It just opened too many chances for a missed signal and for the scene to turn bad.

But then Wyatt blinked a few times, sucked in a desperate gulp of breath, and nodded. “Yes, I want that, I want it, please.”

Lucy cocked her head, thinking for a moment. “No,” she said lightly.

Flynn growled involuntarily and she laughed, leaning over to kiss him. “Not just yet,” she whispered. “He’s been such a good boy, I think he can hold out a little longer, and so can you.”

Flynn swallowed. Part of him wanted to say no, he couldn’t hold out, he wanted to fuck Wyatt _now_. But the part of him that wanted to make Lucy proud and wanted to do as she said, the part that craved following her orders—that part won out, as it always did.

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

Jesus fucking Christ, when Lucy said they’d be taking their time with him she’d really, truly meant it.

He kept trying to close his legs on reflex and couldn’t, and it was giving him a painfully good rush. It felt like his heart was trying to climb out of his throat but in the best way possible. It was so much, close to too much, and he wanted he just wanted to come so very badly _please_ …

The fact that he was spread out—it wasn’t that he wanted to get away from their touch. Far from it. He wanted more of it, wanted a firmer hand, wanted to fucking orgasm for fuck’s sake, but it was that he was just—presented, almost, that he was on display, unable to do anything but shake and moan as Lucy and Flynn had their fun and it was making him fucking dizzy.

After Lucy said no, Wyatt had nearly lost his goddamn mind. He’d almost snarled that no, he wasn’t waiting a second longer goddammit, he couldn’t hold out—but he wanted to hold out. He wanted to be praised and told how so very good he was. He wanted the afterward, with Lucy petting him and letting him know she was so proud of him. He wanted the ultimate rush and if that meant he had to let her fucking edge him a little while longer then it was more than worth it.

And besides it wasn’t like he was in pain. It felt good—too damn good.

The two of them switched positions, so that Flynn slid his fingers inside of him while Lucy set her teeth around one of his nipples, worrying it and then lapping at it with her tongue. Wyatt moaned, twisting, writhing, trying to shove himself onto them and get away at the same moment. His legs kept flexing, trying to close, but he couldn’t, and it was generating some kind of feedback look in his brain, this endless cycle of _so good so good so good_.

One of them—he wasn’t sure who—bit his hip and sucked a bruise and Wyatt whimpered. Holy mother of God. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back. It was just trying to keep a tsunami from happening.

“So… very… pretty…” Lucy murmured, kissing along his neck. There was a noise from Flynn and she laughed, turning back to look at him. “You want to fuck him so badly don’t you?”

“Lucy…”

“Well, I suppose you’ve been good.” Lucy looked back down at Wyatt, who was struggling to remember things like how inhaling worked. “You want him to fuck you until you come?”

Her hand slid down, stroking his cock in a loose fist, not enough to really get him off but enough for him to squirm desperately, unable to stay still no matter how hard he tried.

Wyatt nodded. “Please.”

Lucy grinned wickedly, then looked at Flynn.

“Lucy, c’mon, please?” Flynn sounded close to snapping.

Lucy gave a put upon sigh, teasing, as if she was indulging them—which was a complete lie, she wanted to watch this and rub one out just as badly as Wyatt wanted Flynn to fuck him. “I guess I could allow that. Go ahead, darling. Make him scream.”

Wyatt thought he might vibrate off the damn mattress at those words. Flynn shuddered, a look of absolute hunger on his face, and then he was moving, so fast Wyatt would’ve gotten vertigo if he was standing up, positioning himself and Wyatt—fuck he was so loose and open, so ready for it—Flynn slid inside faster than he’d intended, sinking in all the way in one smooth stroke, and the both of them choked.

Flynn closed his eyes, a shudder wrecking him, and Wyatt could tell that Flynn was struggling not to come right that second and that—that was so fucking hot, that Flynn was that turned on, that desperate, and Wyatt could feel himself leaking, jerking, so very close.

“Please,” he whined, shoving himself down, trying to get leverage, trying to do _something_ , but he was strapped down and open and pinned and oh fuck he couldn’t even draw his legs in to hook them around Flynn’s body, just forced to lie there as Flynn fucked him and it was so goddamn _hot_. “Please, please, please pl—”

The last word was cut off on a scream—that was the only word for it, although he’d probably deny it later—as Flynn fucked into him, no mercy, just hard as he could, without finesse or rhythm, and he heard Lucy in his ear, “that’s it, that’s my sweet plaything, come for us sweetheart it’s okay, you were perfect for me, there you go,” and he couldn’t even think words, what were words, language, just sensation and orgasm ripping its claws through him and leaving him emptied out and strung out and forced open and raw.

They were both absolute messes, and Wyatt could feel the slick sliding out of him, down his legs, not to mention his own come staining his stomach. Jesus.

Lucy looked like the cat who’d eaten a whole dozen canaries, and when Wyatt looked he could see her legs and fingers wet and glistening, proving she’d enjoyed the show as much as they’d enjoyed putting it on for her.

She got up as Flynn flopped down next to Wyatt, undoing Wyatt’s ropes and the bar, and then cooing for them to lie still as she cleaned them up. Flynn looked pretty out of it himself, and Wyatt sure as fuck wasn’t going anywhere.

“You two just rest,” she whispered. Wyatt heard the television turn on as he curled up into Flynn, Flynn’s arm coming around his waist.

Lucy settled in between them, propped up on pillows, gently guiding Wyatt’s head onto her lap and Flynn’s right next to it, petting both of them. “My lovely boys,” she whispered, and probably much more, but Wyatt didn’t hear it because he was already asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Lucy held up the paint chips. “Summer Seafoam? Or Pastel Kiwi?” she asked.

Wyatt stared at the two colors. “They look the same.”

Lucy sighed and craned her neck around for Flynn, who had disappeared again. She didn’t know why she was bothering bringing the men with her to the paint store. Wyatt was apparently colorblind for all the difference he saw in colors, and Flynn kept vanishing.

Actually…

Flynn had said he was fine with helping pick things out for the nursery, including paint colors, but what if now that they were at the store he was less fine than he’d thought he would be?

“Can you go look for Garcia?” Lucy asked.

Wyatt nodded. “Sure thing.”

Lucy looked back down at the paint chips. She wanted something in a pale blue or green, since those were supposed to be soothing colors for bedrooms. But pastel, light and airy, since they were kids.

She settled at last on the Summer Seafoam and went to the counter to ask for some gallons to be made up. While she waited, Flynn and Wyatt returned, laden down with rollers, painting canvases to protect the floor, and other supplies.

“You okay?” she asked Flynn as Wyatt gathered everything for the teller to ring up. Lucy put her hand on his arm. Flynn seemed fine, but she knew he was good at burying his pain down deep.

Flynn nodded, taking her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “I’m okay. Thank you for asking, I was just trying to get the other things we needed.” He winked at her.

Lucy relaxed. Flynn was terrible, once called out on his emotions, at hiding them from her. Even if he could be remarkably good at bottling them up until that point. “Okay.”

“Did you pick out a color?”

“Mmhmm, I think it’s perfect.”

 

* * *

 

“I hate this color,” Lucy declared as she lay down on the canvased floor in the room that would soon be the nursery.

Wyatt looked down at her. “You’re just saying that because you’re tired of painting it.”

“How long does it take to paint a single room!?”

Flynn, the tallest, was doing the ceiling. No boring off-white ceiling for her children, oh no. She’d decided to stencil designs across it, which Flynn was now dutifully filling in with soft Dove Gray paint.

Wyatt held out his hand. “C’mon, honey, you’ll feel better once it’s done and you can lie down properly.”

“I better be getting rewarded for this,” Lucy muttered as she accepted Wyatt’s hand up.

“Is the joy of motherhood not enough of a reward?” Flynn said, not looking away from the painting.

“It would be a real pity if the twins never got to meet their father,” Lucy noted cheerfully.

Wyatt grabbed a roller and went back to finishing up his wall. “Just another hour and we should be finished in here, Luce. Then tomorrow we can get furniture.”

Lucy was glad to see that Wyatt was eager to help them with the nursery. She’d worried that he wouldn’t welcome the twins, that with Joy already in his life that Wyatt wasn’t ready to start the whole ‘father of young infants’ thing all over again, especially with two babies at once.

But God, she and Flynn would need the help. Flynn had done this before but not in years, and she was a first-timer, and twins were double everything. And Wyatt was just jumping in with both feet, offering up some of Joy’s hand-me-downs that she no longer needed, updating Flynn on child car seat regulations, and now dutifully painting the nursery walls when Lucy herself had given up.

“You’re wonderful,” she told him. She braced her hands on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. “I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, well, gotta make up for all the shit I pulled, right?”

Lucy hoped Wyatt wasn’t still thinking he had red in his ledger or anything. He had done the work, years of it, to become a better person and work his way back into everyone’s life and their good graces. There was no reason for him to keep beating himself up.

“Finished,” Flynn announced. “I’ll start on the trim.”

Afterwards, Lucy decided to take a very well-deserved shower. God, she wanted to unwind. She was tired but also wound up from doing the same repetitive movements over and over again and she just wanted to be unspooled like a ball of twine.

She stepped out of the shower to find that Flynn was… hmm. Well, wonderfully naked except for a pair of black silk briefs, and he was laying out the spreader bar… oh, wait, there was a second one?

“When did we buy a second bar?”

“I ran out while you were in the shower,” Flynn said. He cleared his throat. “I thought you might want to let us… take care of you.”

Even when she was the one tied up, she was the one in control. The casual observer just walking in might think it was the other way around, but for Flynn and Wyatt, doing things to her like this was just another way of serving her, of showing her command over them by doing things they knew brought her pleasure. It was about acts of service, not about establishing dominance.

The actions might be the same or similar to what she did to them but the intent and manner in which they were carried out was different, and that was what mattered.

“And where is our plaything?” she asked.

“In the closet,” Wyatt said. He poked his head out. “No pun intended, I dropped a hanger.”

He exited, also just wearing some underwear. Lucy smirked. “You boys are spoiling me.”

Wyatt blushed. “It was Garcia’s idea.”

Lucy sauntered over to the bed, casually dropping her towel as she did so. “All right then.” She climbed up into the middle. “How do you want me?”

The words came out low-pitched and sultry, and she saw Flynn swallow hard and look like he’d been clocked upside the head with a brick. His gaze dragged slowly up her body, taking his time to drink her all in now that they were married, now that he was allowed to work, no longer darting his gaze away in shame.

Flynn gently took her hand, like a knight helping a lady up the stairs, and gently guided her onto her back. “Right here,” he murmured, and then he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

Lucy relaxed, giving herself over to his hands, letting the bed and Flynn take her weight as he gently coaxed her with his lips and his tongue.

A pair of hands slid up her thighs and she spread them obligingly, feeling Wyatt plant a kiss to her ankle, and then begin to work his way up. He nipped at the sensitive skin behind her knee, making her jump a little, and then switched legs, sucking at her thigh.

Lucy dug her nails into Flynn’s shoulders, loving the warm, taut skin underneath her hands, the play of muscles as he shifted, cradled her, held her gently and firmly as Wyatt started to get between her legs properly.

Flynn was playfully rough with Wyatt but he could never be anything but gentle with Lucy. She far from minded. People had played rough and fast and loose with her heart and Flynn, oh Flynn, he was breathtakingly gentle.

Lucy made a small noise as Wyatt curled his tongue inside of her, working it along the roof where she was sensitive, making her squirm.

“Don’t tease her,” Flynn ordered, one of his hands leaving Lucy’s cheek to spear through Wyatt’s hair and push his head down, pressing his mouth right up against Lucy’s clit.

Wyatt made a strangled noise in the back of his throat in response to the manhandling and obediently set to work.

Lucy shuddered, her thighs clenching as Wyatt worked her with his tongue, just a hint of teeth here and there the way she liked it, painting Flynn’s shoulders in thin red stripes as she dug her nails in again and again. Flynn kissed her jaw, her cheeks, her throat, her shoulders, soothing and teasing her in equal measure.

Wyatt was practiced in her tells now and waited until she was making the tiny noises in the back of her throat, the ones she always tried to bite back and failed to, before he sealed his mouth over and sucked, fluttering his tongue.

Lucy came with a sigh, going limp in Flynn’s arms.

Delicious.

“Now,” Flynn murmured. “Could you get onto your hands and knees, please?”

Lucy almost laughed at his tone, soft and yielding like soft clay, ready for her to remold him into a new shape if she so chose. Her skin was buzzing, her blood itself was buzzing, but she obligingly got onto all fours, spreading her hands and legs.

“Don’t make them too loose, darling,” she teased as she felt Flynn strap the spreader bar into place around her lower thighs.

Wyatt examined the other bar for a moment, clearly confused. Lucy rolled her eyes fondly. “Put it around my wrists to start, there’s a good boy.”

Following her instructions, Wyatt properly put the second spreader bar around her wrists. She was now… well, she could move, technically, but it would be the most awkward thing possible and she would just look like an idiot while she did it.

“Comfortable?” Flynn asked, gently pushing her hair out of her face and tying it up so that it wouldn’t fall into her eyes.

It also gave him a nice convenient bundle to tug on as he fucked her, which Lucy _greatly_ appreciated.

“Mm, yes, very.”

Flynn kissed slowly down her back, and she could hear slick noises, but Flynn’s hands were around her hips… and then she felt Flynn shudder with his lips still pressed to one of the knobs of her spine and she realized that Wyatt was stroking Flynn.

She felt Flynn groan a little against her back, and then he ordered, “that’s it, yeah, you can—stop, Wyatt.”

The noises stopped at once, and then Flynn began to kiss his way back up, until he was nuzzling the side of her neck and she felt him gently guiding himself into her.

Oh fuck yes, in this position he could get good and deep into her, pressing right up against that sweet spot, and she struggled not to push back into it as he slowly but surely pressed her open.

Lucy panted, her head hanging down between her shoulders until a sharp tug snapped it back up, Flynn’s hand secure in her hair. Oh _fuck_ yes.

“Still good, _draga_?”

Lucy struggled to focus on words. “Yes,” she gasped out, shifting, feeling him hot inside her, stretching her, hoping he would start to move now…

A third hand braced itself halfway down her back, and then fingers slid down her stomach, just very lightly, teasing, until they trailed between her legs and sought out her clit.

“Oh fuck,” Lucy swore. Flynn tugged on her hair again as Wyatt started to rub slow, maddening circles around and around, his fingers undoubtedly brushing against Flynn’s cock where it started to enter her. “Not—not fair—”

“Oh, do you want us to stop?” Flynn teased.

“I want you to _fuck_ me, Garcia, you bastard—”

A short, sharp thrust interrupted her and she gasped, her legs shaking. Oh, she wanted to claw at the sheets, she wanted to shove herself back onto his cock like he was a toy, she wanted to curl into herself as she felt a second orgasm building behind the remnants of the first but she couldn’t—couldn’t move with these damn bars—

“Like that?” Flynn asked, tugging on her hair yet again.

“Yes,” she ordered. “Like that, Garcia, fuck me until I’m screaming.”

She felt a shiver wrack him at her order and her words. “Yes, ma’am,” he said at once, and then his grip on her hips tightened and he began to fuck her hard and rough.

He never would’ve done this at first, but by now they trusted each other, and he knew that she would be okay, that she wouldn’t break. That this was what she liked. Wyatt kept touching her over and over, relentless on her clit as Flynn shifted until he hit the spot that had her moaning. She could feel his hips pressing up against her ass, he was as deep inside of her as he could possibly get, and oh, fuck, yes, _fuck_ yes, fuck fuck fuck—

“You’re gonna scare the neighbors,” Wyatt whispered, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“They’re—they’re used to it by now,” Lucy managed to get out in between harsh gulps of air. “They—ah _ah ah_ —they know we’re the—the horny couple, oh my God oh my _God_ —”

Neither man stopped, not until she was shaking all over and coming again, white behind her eyes, Flynn tugging her hair on each thrust, Wyatt’s hand and her thighs a complete mess.

Flynn let go of her hair at last, setting his teeth to the back of her shoulder as he came a second after she did, clearly having been holding back the whole time to make sure she got her orgasm in.

“Such a gentleman,” Lucy slurred.

She could feel Flynn’s chest heaving against her back. “I try… my best…” he replied, clearly knocked for six, and Lucy couldn’t suppress a pleased smirk. She had spent so long being insecure in the rest of her life, knowing only that she was desirable sexually, and after a while even that didn’t do much for her. People, especially men, were so easy to please in the bedroom if you knew what buttons to push. How was it truly a compliment?

But then along came Flynn, Flynn who only slept with the people he loved, Flynn who respected her and worshipped her, Flynn who kept an iron grip on his self-control—and she could send him into a messy spiral. She had all the power, he looked at her like she was a goddess, and each time after he fucked her it was like he was seeing her all over again for the first time and couldn’t believe she was deigning to do this with him of all people.

It was a drug she was never, ever letting go. She was always keeping him with her.

Flynn got his breath back and slid out of her, and Lucy had a moment to feel empty and, well, like a real mess, and then she heard murmuring and soft kissing.

“Go on,” Flynn was instructing. “Be a good pet, hmm?”

There was a choked noise, more kissing, and then she felt another pair of hands on her hips, smoothing up her back, and gave a small whimper as Wyatt started to slide inside of her.

“Three’s the magic number, isn’t that the saying?” Flynn asked her. She could hear the uncertainty underneath, the silent question—was she okay with three? Did she want to stop?

“That’s the saying,” Lucy replied, and then she shoved her hips back and took all of Wyatt into her.

“Fuck,” Wyatt just about shouted, his hands slipping on her back and scrambling for purchase.

Lucy laughed breathlessly, twisting her hips, getting him nice and deep inside of her. “Don’t try this at home, kids,” she joked.

All three of them were clean and healthy, and only had sex with each other, but normally, getting fucked sans condom by two different men in a row was the epitome of unhealthy sex choices.

“I hate you both,” Wyatt groaned.

She could hear Flynn kissing Wyatt, could easily imagine Flynn’s hands sliding all over him and fuck, why was she stuck like this, she wanted to turn around, she wanted to be able to see it. “Think you can hold on long enough to get her to come?” Flynn murmured. “Hmm? If it’s too difficult…”

“N-no, no, I can do it…”

“…if it’s too difficult, you can just kneel here and Lucy can do the work. Use you like a toy, and all you have to do is kneel here.”

She could feel Wyatt trembling, and then Flynn did something that made Wyatt whine desperately. Fuck, she wanted to _see_.

“You going to be a good plaything for her? A good toy? Just sitting here and letting yourself be used? Hmm?”

“Y-yes, yes, I will, I’ll be good—”

“Because you’re just that desperate, hmm, aren’t you. How about you be an extra good boy for me, and let me touch you however I want?”

Wyatt whined desperately and fuck, this was the real torture, not being able to see, just stuck there having to hear and imagine.

Fuck that. Lucy shoved herself back onto Wyatt’s cock again, reveling in the strangled moan he gave, and started to set her own pace.

Mmm, she might normally ask for some assistance from Flynn’s hand but after two orgasms she was too damn sensitive, direct contact on her clit might actually make her short-circuit. Instead she set herself a good pace, shifting until she got the angle that had her seeing stars and shoved a hoarse moan out of her throat, and then worked it for all it was worth.

Wyatt was practically vibrating as he struggled not to move or squirm, and she could hear him whining and inhaling sharply as Flynn did whatever the hell he was doing—damn it she wanted to see, that tease of a husband was going to get paid back for this, she was going to make him a gibbering begging _wreck_ for her the next time she got her hands on him, he wasn’t even going to know his own name he was only going to know how to say _please_ and _mistress_ —

Fuck, that thought shoved her over the edge a third time, sharp and sweet, just tinged with a thin edge of pain that made the rest of the pleasure so much sweeter.

“Now, Wyatt,” Flynn ordered. “Good boy, look at you so desperate, such a mess for it—you did good, you’re allowed to come now.”

Wyatt clawed at her back and she heard him sob and then he moved, once, twice, spilling inside of her on the second thrust and she could feel him collapsing in Flynn’s arms.

There came the sound of soft, pliant kisses, and then Wyatt was pulling away—or being guided away by Flynn, which was more likely—and then Flynn knelt in front of her.

“You good, _moja voljena_?”

Lucy nodded. “It’ll be even better once you untie me,” she slurred.

Flynn chuckled, and then the spreader bars were being undone and she slumped down onto the blankets.

Now that was a hell of a way to relax.

 

* * *

 

Of course, she was still going to get her revenge.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt buttoned his shirt up halfway, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering in his stomach. He’d said that he would be okay with wearing it underneath his shirt and he’d meant that, but he hadn’t thought that—he’d imagined going on a walk in the park or maybe even out grocery shopping, he hadn’t thought Lucy would have him—do it for _this_.

“Mm, blue is such a good color on you,” Lucy noted, coming up behind him and laying her hand on his shoulder, making eye contact in the mirror. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Wyatt did as he was told, and then Lucy opened the top drawer and took out the collar.

She brought it over, slipping her hands under his collar and wrapping it around—and giving him a very nice view of how low-cut her dress was while she was at it, which, knowing Lucy and her deviousness, was definitely on purpose.

Wyatt couldn’t suppress his shudder as the collar snapped into place around his neck. It was just tight enough that he could feel it every time he breathed, constricting slightly, not preventing him from breathing at all but feeling confining anyway, making him feel hyperaware of his skin, making him feel small and held, controlled, and oh God it was the best and the worst all at once because he was going to have to be stuck like this for hours.

Stuck like this while he was at the monthly bunker family party at Denise and Michelle’s house.

Fuck.

Lucy pulled back to admire her handiwork, her eyes darkening. “Oh, don’t you look _precious_ ,” she purred. “What do you think, my love?”

Flynn walked over and stood behind her, swallowing hard when he saw Wyatt sitting there, shirt half open, the collar snug around his neck.

“I think we’re not going to make it to the party.”

“You will,” Lucy ordered, her voice growing firm. “You both will. Won’t you?” She reached out, tracing the tip of her finger along the edge of the collar.

Oh holy Jesus fuck. “Yes,” Wyatt replied, digging his fingers into the bedsheets.

“Calling you puppy takes on a whole new meaning right now,” Lucy mused, causing Flynn to literally facepalm behind her.

Lucy took hold of Wyatt’s shirt and carefully did up the last few buttons, until the collar was hidden from sight. “There we go. You’re both going to be such good boys for me tonight, and we’ll have fun like we always do, and then… well, we’ll see.”

Wyatt locked gazes with Flynn, who looked like he was barely a second away from snapping and fucking Wyatt then and there. And he wanted Flynn to, oh God, he wanted it so badly, wanted Flynn to pin him down and fuck him until Wyatt couldn’t even breathe.

But he wanted to follow Lucy’s orders more.

Wyatt tore his gaze away and looked at Lucy. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy beamed.

 

* * *

 

Flynn was deeply, irrevocably, until-the-stars-died-out in love with his wife.

He was also idly contemplating her murder.

Lucy knew how weak he was for Wyatt’s throat kink, for his hand around Wyatt’s neck, for feeling Wyatt’s pulse race under his skin and hearing Wyatt’s breath hitch, the way Wyatt’s eyes got helplessly wide and he put himself completely at Flynn’s mercy.

She knew all of this, and she was ruthlessly exploiting it.

They were all gathered at Denise and Michelle’s house, eating dinner at the gigantic table Denise had bought forever ago since Michelle loved entertaining but, until now, had never gotten around to using for that purpose.

Denise’s mother cooked loads, and Flynn quickly jumped in to help. She liked him, and they got along well, bonding over their love of the kitchen—and it meant he didn’t have to be subjected to watching Wyatt’s eyes get wide and dark whenever he swallowed too hard and the collar tightened around his throat.

The stupidest possessive feeling would take hold of his gut like a fist whenever he saw Wyatt and knew the collar was underneath. It was like… well. Flynn couldn’t be sure since he’d never been the jealous type but it sure felt something like jealousy, if he was pressed about it.

He was the one who got to wrap his hand around Wyatt’s throat like that. And he loved it—loved that he was the only person who got Wyatt’s total and complete trust in that particular way. Lucy knew how to choke, she’d choked Flynn plenty of times during sex, but her hand was much smaller and Wyatt admitted that it was something he’d imagined Flynn doing to him for months.

And now—now a stupid _inanimate object_ was making Wyatt feel the same way!?

Okay, yes, this was incredibly stupid and also turning him on and oh he could not wait to finally get home so he could fuck Wyatt and make Wyatt beg for Flynn to choke him.

“How’s it going in here?” Jess asked, poking her head in.

“All good, almost ready,” Flynn replied. “How’s Amy managing?”

Amy was visibly pregnant now, and already looked farther along than she was because she was carrying twins. Flynn could understand if the mixing aromas weren’t doing good things for Amy’s stomach.

“She’s past that whole sickness phase,” Jess said. “She’s now in the weird cravings phase.”

“Good luck to you.”

Jess flipped him off.

Everyone gathered around the table, Denise at the head and Michelle at the foot, Mark and Olivia joining, Jess and Amy and Rufus and Jiya on one side, Mason and Flynn and Lucy and Wyatt on the other.

Lucy had contrived to put Wyatt in the middle of her and Flynn, claiming that she wanted to sit next to Michelle and that Mason wanted Flynn to sit next to him.

It meant that Flynn had a front row seat to Lucy teasing Wyatt.

They had just gotten about ten minutes in when he felt Wyatt tense next to him. Looking down, he saw Lucy’s hand trailing slowly up Wyatt’s thigh, then back down again, back and forth, following his inseam.

The harder Wyatt breathed in response, the more his collar tightened around him, and the more turned on he’d get, which would make Lucy’s touch affect him more, which would… so on and so forth, a cycle of arousal that soon had Wyatt squirming in his seat.

Flynn had to tear his gaze away, to stop looking at Wyatt’s slightly flushed face, between Wyatt’s legs as he watched his pants get tight, and instead try and focus on what Jiya was discussing with Lucy. Something about the fall of Constantinople.

Wyatt squirmed again, and Flynn looked down to see Lucy slowly dragging her thumb up the outline of Wyatt’s cock through his jeans.

 _Fucking_ hell.

Rufus said something to him, and Flynn struggled to focus, even as he could hear Wyatt’s breath hitching beside him.

He actually did manage to get swept up in the conversation with Rufus, and by the time he looked back at Wyatt—who was gulping down some water—Lucy’s hand had retracted from between his legs and she was now casually stroking the back of his neck. An innocuous gesture, something soft and not necessarily sexual that all couples did, but with the collar on…

Wyatt made a small noise, muffled by the water, and then he set his glass down and swallowed and his face flushed.

Flynn turned to ask Mason how things were going in the stock market now that Mason Industries was back on its feet and used the opportunity to reach down between Wyatt’s legs, squeezing his cock, pushing Wyatt’s arousal back a bit. He felt Wyatt’s hand close over his wrist, squeezing gently in thanks, and Flynn retracted his hand.

“So?” Denise said, in her _I’m the mom I know everything_ tone, “when were you all going to tell us that you three were sleeping with each other?”

Wyatt choked on his food.

Flynn thumped him on the back as Lucy blushed furiously. “We… we were going to tell you…”

“When the polar ice caps finally finished melting?” Denise asked.

Rufus tried to stifle his laughter with his napkin and failed miserably.

“We wanted to be certain of it,” Flynn said, a bit more honesty leaking into his voice than he’d intended. “It was new. And there were a lot of things to work out. We wanted to be… private so that everyone’s dignity was spared.”

“Right,” Jiya said, “because Wyatt being all gooey and smiley all the time wasn’t a clue.”

Joy, who was seated in between Jess and Amy, and directly across from Wyatt, looked very confused. “Daddy sleep with Aunt Lucy and Uncle Flynn?”

Wyatt gave Denise the most betrayed look known to man. “Yeah, ladybug, I live at their house now, remember? Of course I sleep there.”

Joy nodded solemnly and went back to lining her peas up in a row as Wyatt furiously signed at Denise _you can’t say that in front of my daughter!_

 _Get over it,_ Denise signed back.

They’d all learned ASL during missions when it had become clear that they needed a language they could all speak that wasn’t English that it wasn’t likely any historical person could understand and could also be understood even during, say, noisy battlefields.

“If you guys are happy, we’re happy,” Mason said.

“Yeah, now that all the sexual tension’s banged out, you horny idiots,” Rufus muttered.

Wyatt glared at him, and conversation shifted onto the latest superhero movie, mostly for the sake of Mark and Olivia. Flynn gently squeezed Wyatt’s knee under the table. Wyatt might never say it, but Flynn and Lucy knew how much he’d had to adjust, how they’d asked him to dive into the deep end, bi and polyamory all at once. They hadn’t gone as slow as they could have with the BDSM, either, jumping in almost at once with him. And Wyatt had taken it all in stride like a champ.

Flynn was incredibly proud of him.

After dinner, they all flopped down on various chairs and couches and chatted with wine and ice cream. Mark and Olivia went to bed, and Joy fell asleep on Jess’s lap.

Flynn was the designated driver, so he didn’t have anything, but Lucy had a glass of wine and that apparently was all it took to get her started on both him and Wyatt again.

This time he wasn’t spared either, as Lucy leaned in a few times to whisper to him, kissing the shell of his ear or the side of his neck while she was at it. She kept touching both him and Wyatt, and then towards the end of the night she got really bold.

Flynn had no idea what she said to Wyatt, but to him she whispered, “I know you’re jealous of the collar.”

“Oh?” Flynn kept his gaze fixated on Michelle as she told a funny story.

“Mmhmm. You want to get your hand around his throat while you fuck him. Before or after I fuck him, hmm, that’s the question. Should I make you wait longer? Make you watch?”

“Lucy…” His vision was blurring and he was going to have to put a pillow over his lap soon.

“Just some thoughts.” Lucy kissed his jaw and then retreated.

The thing was, Flynn really loved these dinners. They were all running around busy with their lives and so rarely got together, all of them like this. Before, in the bunker, it had been stressful because they’d had nowhere else to go, they’d all been trapped together, and he’d needed some balance. But now he did miss the camaraderie, the ability for everyone he cared about to be just a stone’s throw away.

So he really appreciated these dinners. Truly, he did. These messy, prickly, complicated people were his family, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything, believe it or not.

Having said that.

Flynn was insanely grateful when the night finally, _finally_ ended and they could bid everyone goodnight.

Wyatt carried Joy to her mother’s car, where she woke up enough to give him a proper hug goodnight and he could kiss the top of her head and remind her he loved her.

Then they all got into their car, and Flynn had to struggle not to just floor it on the gas.

Wyatt was in the front passenger seat next to him, his legs splayed, his breathing short and harsh. “Jesus fuck,” he croaked. “Lucy, is the concept of mercy unknown to you?”

“Yup!” Lucy said cheerfully—and then she _climbed into Wyatt’s lap._

Flynn nearly swerved the car. “Lucy—”

“Shh, just drive, you can do that right Garcia? Especially since I won’t touch you. Can’t distract the driver that much.” Lucy wiggled until she was firmly in Wyatt’s lap, straddling him, their foreheads pressed together. There wasn’t a lot of room, but Lucy was small, and there was just enough for her to start grinding down into Wyatt’s lap.

“Look at you, poor pet,” she cooed. “So pent up. Is that nasty collar getting you all turned on?”

“It’s not just the collar,” Wyatt growled, grabbing onto her thighs.

Lucy kept rocking her hips. “How about we take that edge off, huh?”

If a cop car saw them now they were going to be in so much trouble. Flynn struggled to watch the road, taking the side streets, careful not to drive over the speed limit. The last thing they needed was a triple ticket for speeding, public indecency, and Lucy not wearing her seatbelt.

“Go on,” Lucy ordered, twisting her hips until she found the angle that had her inhaling sharply. Flynn kept glancing over to see her face as she worked that spot, her eyes sliding closed and mouth opening as she ground ruthlessly against her clit using Wyatt’s jeans. “Go on, you can come, take what you need. You’ll need that edge off with what we’re going to do to you.”

Flynn struggled to keep his eyes on the road as Wyatt whined and started to thrust up into Lucy, wiggling down in his seat to get more of an angle and room to do it properly.

Jesus Christ, they were literally getting off next to him and he just had to _watch._

Wyatt was scrambling for something to hold onto as Lucy braced her hand on the ceiling, pushing with it to get more leverage. “That’s it, good boy, you’re so close aren’t you? Going to mess up your pants like the dirty boy you are, go on…”

“Lucy for crying out loud,” Flynn growled.

“Maybe next time you’ll let me watch while you tease him,” Lucy shot back.

“Fuck’s sake.” He should’ve known she’d get revenge for that.

Lucy undid the buttons of Wyatt’s shirt, exposing the collar. “God, look at you, all strung out and desperate, perfect.” She started to grind more frantically, her eyes fixated on Wyatt’s throat, and Flynn was so very tempted to just pull over on the side of the road and beg her to let him fuck either of them, both of them, for the love of _Christ_ —

As if sensing his thoughts, Lucy shot out her hand, gripping his wrist. “Not until we get home,” she gasped out. “Not—not yet—gonna make you fuck him, you’re going to fuck him and get your hand around his pretty throat and then we’re going to fuck him all—all over again—”

Flynn’s grip on the wheel was so tight he thought he might tear something, either his hands or the wheel itself, he wasn’t sure, and Lucy started to really make noise, crying out, making herself extra loud just because she knew it would get to them both.

Wyatt was desperately trying to keep up, his mouth open, staring at Lucy transfixed, and Flynn dared to drive one handed and reach over, grabbing a handful of Wyatt’s hair and tugging sharply.

Wyatt made a desperate moan that turned into a swear as he shuddered, thrusting his hips up sharply, coming.

Lucy bit her lip, continuing to grind down, even as Wyatt whimpered a little with oversensitivity, until she came clawing at his chest.

Flynn managed to handle the last five minutes of the drive home even though he couldn’t really see anything, his eyesight a blur. Lucy was slumped on top of Wyatt, the two of them catching their breath, until he finally— _finally_ —turned into the driveway and threw the car into park.

He swiveled to look at the two of them, both disheveled, hair a mess, clothes askew, faces flushed. “Lucy.”

He wasn’t above getting blown by his wife or his boyfriend in his car (wouldn’t have been the first time) but he really would like to get into a proper bed for this next part.

And he really, really, _really_ wanted to finally play with Wyatt properly.

Lucy smirked. “Get inside,” she ordered. “Both of you. Wyatt, take off everything except the collar. Flynn? Leave everything on.”

Flynn’s throat went completely dry. “Yes, ma’am.”

This was going to be a long night, in the best kind of way.


	15. Chapter 15

Wyatt had been going mad all evening at dinner.

He really liked these monthly dinners, and he knew that everyone else liked them too. He liked that they were all still close, even though the Rittenhouse threat was now over and they had all gotten back to having ‘normal’ lives, for whatever the definition of ‘normal’ was, anyway. He liked that Joy was being raised not just with parents but with a whole group of people who loved her and that she could go to for anything. He liked that they were all having five conversations at once and joking and laughing and poking fun at each other. He liked how happy Jess was with Amy, how happy Lucy was with her sister, how happy Rufus and Jiya were, how happy Mason was as everyone’s pseudo-uncle. Just. Everyone was happy, and that made Wyatt happy.

But _holy fucking God_ had he been desperate for that party to end.

Lucy wouldn’t stop touching him all night. It was bad enough if it was innocent touching, but she was putting her hand on his damn inseam, deliberately getting him hard and then leaving him stranded (not that he wanted her to make him come at the goddamn dinner table, but still).

And Flynn. _Flynn_. The man had been staring at him all night with such naked hunger that Wyatt had wanted to get down on his damn knees. He didn’t know if Flynn even realized how bad it was, a growl in his voice and a protective curve in his body towards Wyatt at all times. Jesus Christ, the man was hot enough when he was just being his relaxed self, did he have to go and be on edge like that all night and make Wyatt struggle to breathe properly?

That was the kicker—the collar. It had tightened around his neck every time he’d taken a deep breath, every time he’d swallowed, every time Rufus had made him laugh. Nobody could see it, seated low underneath his shirt, but Wyatt could damn well feel it. It was constant, a weighted presence, and it was making him squirm like nothing else.

If he could—he was pretty sure just putting that collar on and telling him to wear it for ten minutes would be enough on its own to get him hard, to get him ready to come in just a few strokes. He had severely underestimated how badly this would affect him and now—now he was paying the price.

Lucy on his lap in the car. Holy fuck. Dangerous as shit, and he was glad Flynn had kept his wits about him and driven slowly and carefully through the neighborhoods to get them home, but Jesus, was it beyond hot. She’d been warm and solid on his lap, giving him the perfect pressure to rub one out, and the way she’d used him like her favorite vibrator, shifting until she found the right angle and just went to town, not even caring about his pleasure, just using him to chase her own…

Yeah, yeah he’d come so hard he’d just about gone cross-eyed.

But that wasn’t the end of the night. Oh no. That, as Lucy had said, was just to ‘take the edge off’.

Now he had to go inside, and take off his clothes.

While Flynn left his on.

Wyatt already knew what kind of image Lucy was going for with that, what kind of power play she wanted, and he shivered as they got inside and headed right for the bedroom. His fingers shook and fumbled with his shirt buttons as he struggled to get his clothes off. Flynn walked over and helped him as Lucy slid her soaking wet (fucking hell) underwear off from underneath her dress. Wyatt couldn’t help himself, pressing up against Flynn, kissing him and rolling his hips. He’d just come so he was a little oversensitive but he didn’t care, he wanted Flynn inside him, or Lucy with the strap on, either, both, he didn’t care—

“Nuh uh, tiger,” Flynn growled, grabbing Wyatt and shoving him back so that he fell onto the bed. “We use you. Not the other way around.”

If spontaneous combustion was possible, Wyatt was certain he would’ve done it right then. Flynn yanked down his pants and helped him out of his shirt, until Wyatt was naked except for the collar.

Flynn’s eyes gleamed as they landed on it. “Lucy…”

“The collar stays on,” Lucy ordered. She turned around. “Be a darling and unzip me.”

Flynn did so, and Wyatt could see his fingers trembling minutely as he gripped the zipper.

Lucy stepped out of her dress, clad in only her lacy black bra. “You want to fuck him?”

Flynn looked like a man pushed to the very brink of his patience. “I want to fuck him with my _hand_ around his throat.”

Wyatt shivered violently.

Lucy laughed softly in response. “No, no, you don’t get to do that yet. You have to be patient.”

Flynn growled. Lucy kissed him playfully on the jaw. “Now, now, be good for me. Tie his hands down and fuck him.”

Wyatt squirmed, his breathing getting harsh again and the collar constricting, anticipation and the feel of it working to slowly start getting him hard again. Not much, it would take a while, but yeah, already his blood was starting to get hot.

“Hands above your head,” Lucy instructed as Flynn fetched the ties.

Flynn crossed Wyatt’s wrists above his head and then tied them together, looping the tie through the slats of the headboard, and had Wyatt test them and confirm they were good. “Safeword? Safe signal?”

Satisfied that Wyatt could still stop things if he wanted, Flynn pulled back and shoved Wyatt’s legs farther apart with his knees, undoing his jeans. Wyatt knew full well what kind of picture they made, the picture that Lucy wanted them to paint for her, with Flynn fully clothed and looming over him, Wyatt naked and collared and tied down.

“Hold,” Lucy ordered softly, and Flynn paused, twisting to look at her, eyes soft and unsure as he silently asked what he’d done wrong.

Lucy settled her hands on his shoulders and kissed him thoroughly. “No, no, sweetheart, you’re fine. You’re being very good for me. I was just thinking… how good it’ll sound to hear him making those pretty noises through a gag.”

She looked at Wyatt. “You know the safe signal? Are you okay with a gag?”

Wyatt nodded. The collar didn’t actually restrict his breathing, so a gag would be fine—he knew he’d be able to breathe through that, too, and he always had his nose as well.

Lucy ran a hand through his messed up hair and kissed his forehead. “So ready to please me, like a good pet. You’re doing very well.”

She fetched a tie out of the closet and wrapped it carefully around his head. “Open up, please.”

Wyatt did as he was told, and she fit the cloth between his teeth. “Now, bite down, please.”

Wyatt bit down, and Lucy secured the gag at the back of his head. “Is it too tight?”

He shook his head. Lucy petted him a few more times, then pulled away. “Don’t let that stop you from being as noisy as you please.”

Wyatt nodded again. He didn’t think he could’ve kept from making noise if he’d tried.

Lucy pulled back and slid her hand up Flynn’s arm to his shoulder. She squeezed it lightly. “All right then, darling, fuck him. Nice and rough, I want you to get him hard for me.”

Wyatt heard the implication in that—hard for Lucy to fuck him afterwards. He wasn’t going to be allowed to come with Flynn inside him.

He wanted to be allowed to do that—the feeling of orgasm with Flynn hot and hard inside him felt so damn good he just about lost his mind every time—but he also loved being inside of Lucy, and more than anything, more than the actual physical gratification, there was the desire to be good, to follow orders, to be put in his place and used and be made to do as he was told. It felt like he was in danger of floating away and only the points of contact kept him in one piece: the gag, the tie around his wrists, the collar, and Flynn, wherever Flynn touched him.

Lucy obligingly handed Flynn the lube and Flynn slicked his fingers up. Wyatt craned his neck to try and watch, whimpering as Flynn teased him, circling around but not putting his fingers inside him.

Flynn’s eyes were fixated on Wyatt’s throat, undoubtedly watching as the collar shifted and tightened with every gasp and swallow that Wyatt made. Wyatt whimpered, the sound muffled by the gag, and Flynn’s eyes went black.

He slid a finger inside and Wyatt whimpered again, twitching, knowing he had to stay still, _we use you not the other way around_ , but oh God was it difficult. Flynn was taking his time, just sticking to the one finger, and neither he nor Lucy were touching his cock. Clearly they wanted him to get all worked up again untouched, the hard way—no pun intended—the way that would take longer and make him even more of a gibbering wreck in the end.

“Garcia,” Wyatt whined, or tried to—the word came out garbled and muffled through the gag, and fuck it sounded so undignified, so desperate and dirty, and a new shiver worked through him. His past self of a few years ago, hell only a year ago even, would be standing and gaping in shock and denial, but God he loved hearing himself sound like that, feeling himself so at their mercy, wanton and being taken apart, everything stripped from him but the most basic need.

Lucy stretched out on the side of the bed like a lazy cat, propping herself up on her elbow to watch. “You sound so filthy like this,” she observed, tracing her finger around the outside of his lips. “Such a needy boy. You just want one thing, don’t you? You want to please us. Even more than you want to come.”

Wyatt struggled to say something, anything, even just a simple _yes_ , but his mind was turning to mush as Flynn teased him and worked him still with that one goddamn finger, and all he could manage was a groan.

The tie was starting to get wet from his mouth, and Lucy laughed. “Aww, poor pet. He’s practically drooling. Go ahead, Garcia, don’t torture him.”

“If anyone’s getting tortured around here…” Flynn muttered, but he winked at Wyatt and added a second finger, scissoring him open.

Lucy leisurely petted Wyatt’s chest, feeling the way it trembled and heaved. Deprived of the ability to properly speak, one of his senses taken away, his hands tied and making him unable to touch, and the collar making him hyperaware of his breathing, it was like everything was intensified. He pushed up into Lucy’s hand, seeking more of it, wanting a firmer hand.

“Oh, look at you,” Lucy cooed. She pinched one of his nipples and Wyatt swore through the gag, making her laugh. “You feel nice and open, pet?”

He nodded.

“And you really mean that, you aren’t just saying that so we hurry up and fuck you?”

“I really mean it,” Wyatt said, or tried to say. The sound of his own voice so helpless, all of him so helpless, sent fresh heat through him straight down his spine and he moaned at the end. He sounded goddamn pathetic, almost, and it was only turning him on more.

Lucy seemed to get his meaning anyway, despite the gag. “Flynn’s going to fuck you until he comes, get you nice and hard for me, and then I’m going to fuck you until I come. Because you’re our plaything and we get to play with our toys how we want to and as much as we want to. And toys always do as they’re told, don’t they?”

Wyatt could feel himself shaking, and he just barely managed to nod.

Lucy pinched his other nipple and he cried out through the gag. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, they do, I do, I do as I’m told,” Wyatt said, and he knew it wasn’t so much what he was saying as the way the words came out through the gag that mattered.

Lucy hummed. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you come while Flynn chokes you. That’s what you both want, is that right?”

Wyatt couldn’t stop himself, begging and pleading coming out even as all it did was make a bunch of messy sounds through the gag and cause some drool to leak out the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, yes, that’s definitely what you want.” Lucy laughed quietly and looked at Flynn. “Go on, then, my darling.”

Wyatt couldn’t stop himself from desperately making noise on each exhale as Flynn started to enter him, thrusting in tiny, shallow little movements and slowly working himself in deeper each time because Flynn might be on edge himself but he was also always and forever a smart ass.

Flynn gripped Wyatt’s hips like there was nothing else in the world as he bottomed out, chest heaving, a flush all over him. His eyes were dark and glassy and his mouth was open, and fuck, he was so gorgeous, how the fuck did Wyatt get so lucky, these two loving gorgeous people who certainly didn’t need to bother to add a third to their healthy sex life, their healthy marriage, were willingly fucking him. They were letting him live with them.

Wyatt felt a rush of affection so deep it would’ve knocked him on his ass if he’d been standing. It was like being hit with a tsunami deep inside his chest, at his core.

He loved, he loved, he loved them, he’d do whatever they told him not just because he wanted it, needed to scratch that itch inside of his head, but because he loved them.

“Breathe, darling,” Lucy said, planting her hand on Flynn’s chest as he stared wildly at Wyatt. “Deep breaths.”

Flynn inhaled sharply, eyes never leaving Wyatt’s face. He did that a few times, until Lucy took her hand off his chest and nodded. “All right then, go ahead.”

Flynn groaned, long and low, and started to thrust. Normally, he would shift around a bit, change angles minutely, listening to the pitch of Wyatt’s cries until he found the perfect spot and then ruthlessly exploited it, hitting it over and over again to make Wyatt come or avoiding it to tease him.

But right now—right now it wasn’t about Wyatt. It was about Flynn using him to get off. Treating him selfishly, possessively, making it all about Flynn’s own pleasure and nothing else. Just the act of being fucked like this would get Wyatt hard. He didn’t need anything else. And so Flynn was chasing his high, just shoving himself inside over and over again, fast and rough, and Wyatt could only whimper and plead through the gag and tug uselessly at the tie that held his hands.

Flynn’s hand kept drifting up to Wyatt’s throat, like he wanted to rip the collar off and get his hand around Wyatt’s neck and squeeze—but he never did. He obeyed Lucy, even as he sometimes looked at her desperately, hopefully.

Lucy would always shake her head and Flynn would get back to fucking Wyatt with everything in him.

Wyatt was instinctively clawing at the tie that held his wrists, biting at the gag, his heels scrambling for purchase on the mattress, digging in. He wanted to come so badly, so badly, God it would take next to nothing—

He tugged at the restraints hard enough to feel the pinch, strained at the gag hard enough to feel it dig into the corners of his mouth, and used it to focus, to ground himself. No, he was going to be good, he was going to follow Lucy’s orders.

Flynn suddenly let go of Wyatt’s hips, his hands bracing on either side of Wyatt’s shoulders instead, and he bent down, biting Wyatt’s throat right around the collar.

Oh holy mother of _fuck_.

He felt Flynn coming, still with his teeth in Wyatt’s neck, a low continuous growl in his throat, and Wyatt thought he might go insane. He was making ongoing whimpers through the gag, straining up to press his body against Flynn’s, his eyelids fluttering. His cock was hard and fucking leaking, his skin was buzzing all over, and every tiny movement had him scrambling to keep from the edge of orgasm.

Jesus Christ.

Flynn pulled back and out of him, and Wyatt could feel it all leaking out of him, staining his thighs and the sheets beneath.

Flynn kissed along Wyatt’s thighs, his lower stomach, soft and thankful, and Wyatt keened softly, wanting more but also soaking up the affectionate touch like a dog with a bone.

Lucy unhooked her bra and cast it to the side. “My turn,” she said playfully, swinging a leg over to straddle Wyatt. “You still comfortable? Need anything, any water?”

He shook his head.

“Your ties okay? The gag not too snug?”

He shook his head.

“Okay, good boy.” Lucy grabbed his cock by the base, squeezing it to push his orgasm back, sharp pleasure-pain rushing through him. “Oh, feel free to touch my breasts, Garcia,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Flynn gave a sharp _fuck_ , and then Wyatt had no idea what he did next because Lucy was sinking onto him terribly slowly and he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Oh, God, yes, that’s it,” Lucy moaned, her head falling back. Wyatt realized he was still mindlessly whimpering as she let gravity slowly drag her inch by inch onto him. “Oh, listen to you, you sound so eager and needy. You’re so dirty, letting us tie you up, gag you, fuck you six ways to Sunday. Aren’t you lucky you found people who like what a greedy boy you are, hmm? Willing to do all those very naughty things you want to have done to you?”

Wyatt nodded vigorously. Lucy bent down and kissed him through the gag. “Messy, look at you making such a mess of yourself. What will we ever do with you?”

“Fuck him?” Flynn noted.

Lucy turned and stared deadpan at Flynn, who grinned at her.

“I will get you for that.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Lucy grabbed Flynn by the shirt and yanked him in, kissing him deep and filthy as she started to fuck herself onto Wyatt’s cock. “Get undressed,” she ordered, her words throaty and sultry, said right up against Flynn’s mouth.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Flynn murmured, and there was no trace of sass in him in that moment, his body taut and attentive, full of complete and utter submissive devotion.

Lucy let go of him and raked her nails down Wyatt’s chest and stomach, prompting him to cry out through the gag. “Oh, oh yes, you—you’re gonna—you gonna lie there and let me take what I want and as much as I want…”

Wyatt managed a strangled _yes_ , the collar tight and ever-present, the gag muffling him, everything combining to become too much as Lucy fucked him, hot and tight around him, as fast as she pleased, setting her own ruthless rhythm for herself. He lost track of time as it went on and on and on, his vision blurring and eyes closing at some point—he didn’t even know when—and he felt noises coming out of him but he couldn’t hear them any longer—

He was floating, floating, barely tethered to the earth—and then he felt a sharp pinch and yelped through the gag, his eyes yanking themselves open.

“Look at me,” Lucy ordered, breathless. “Look at me, Wyatt, that’s a good boy. Talk to me.”

He tried, but it was so hard, words were beyond him.

“I can’t look at you and see the back of your head, honey, that’s not good. I need you in the moment with me.” Lucy ran her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, that little bit of pain sharpening his senses and bringing him more and more back to earth. “That’s it, that’s my sweet pet, that’s my good boy. Stay right here with me. Can’t have you floating away now.”

He focused on the pain, on her words, struggling to stay in the moment with her.

“Flynn.” Lucy’s voice was high-pitched, telling Wyatt she was close to coming. “Talk to him, keep him grounded.”

Flynn took Wyatt’s face in his hands, turning him, kissing his nose, his forehead, the curve of his cheeks. He worked Wyatt’s gag off and then gently kissed him on the lips. “What’s my name?”

“Garcia,” Wyatt managed.

“What do I like to call you? Who are you to me?”

“I’m yours—I’m your dirty boy, that’s what you like—”

“Good, good, shh.” Flynn kissed his eyelids and Wyatt whined helplessly.

“I want to come, wanna—so badly—Garcia I can’t—”

“Yes you can, it’s okay. We’ve got you. You’re so close. Just a little longer and then we can take that collar off and I’ll get my hand on you, eh? You’d like that.”

Wyatt nodded frantically. “All I thought about—all night—wanna—I want—”

“Shh, _draga_ , shh, you’ll get it.”

Lucy gave a choked-off cry. “Sounds so good when he’s—when he’s begging us to—‘s so good—”

She came, shuddering, and collapsed boneless on top of Wyatt.

Wyatt whimpered frantically, his mouth dry and tongue heavy and feeling oddly difficult to move now that the gag was gone. Like he’d forgotten how to speak normally without it.

“Yes, yes, you were good for us.” Lucy pulled off him and sparks practically danced down his cock, through his body, oh sweet Jesus he wasn’t going to make it much longer.

Lucy moved over to Flynn, cooing to him, kissing him and running her hands all over him. “Look at you,” she whispered. “God you’re so goddamn handsome, can’t even stand it. I’m gonna get you good and open for him.”

That brought Wyatt up short. Lucy must’ve seen his eyes go wide, because she laughed. “Oh, yes, you’re going inside Garcia this time. He can still choke you while you two do that, right darling?”

Flynn swallowed, then nodded, looking equal parts determined and hopelessly aroused.

Lucy gently pushed Flynn down onto all fours hovering over Wyatt, then opened the lube. “I’ll let you enjoy the show,” she told Wyatt magnanimously, “even though you both weren’t so kind to me the other day.”

She then winked at Wyatt and kissed Flynn on the spine to soften the blow, let them know she really didn’t mind, and that this was all in fun.

Wyatt bit down hard on his lip as he watched Lucy start to fuck her fingers into Flynn. Flynn’s head hung down between his shoulders, his hands like claws in the sheets on either side of Wyatt’s head, his face going bright red as he struggled, as Wyatt had, not to shove himself back into Lucy’s touch.

Wyatt wanted to touch him so badly, wanted to take Flynn’s face in his hands, to kiss him all over, to massage his shoulders, bite at his neck and his arms, but all he could do was watch helplessly, turned on beyond words, as Lucy patiently got Flynn open. Her fingers were understandably smaller and so it took her a little longer, making sure that Flynn was truly ready, kissing up and down his spine and biting a little here and there, making a neat pathway of bruises up his back.

It felt like Wyatt might actually crawl out of his skin, he was so hot, felt so tight all over, sweating and stained with come from both Flynn and Lucy, his chest a mess of red lines from Lucy’s nails.

“There we go,” Lucy said, finally pulling away from Flynn. She moved over and let Flynn lower himself onto Wyatt as Wyatt saw goddamn stars in his eyes, his vision blurring for a hot second as he viciously yanked at the reins of his self-control to keep from coming.

Lucy reached down and bit at his nipple and Wyatt groaned, the pleasure-pain what he needed to stave off orgasm. Lucy kept biting at him, sucking on mouthfuls of his skin, as Flynn took his time adjusting.

Then, at last—at _last_ —she reached up and undid his collar.

Wyatt whined, his neck, no, his whole body feeling naked and exposed with it off. Flynn growled and Lucy winked at him. “All right, handsome, he’s all yours. And Wyatt?”

She took his chin between her fingers, forcing it up so that his throat was more exposed, making him lock eyes with her. “Darling, darling pet,” she cooed. The fingers of her other hand stroked his cheek. “You were very good today. You can come whenever you want.”

He nodded and Lucy released him—and Flynn didn’t waste a second.

Flynn’s hand wrapped around his throat and Wyatt’s breath caught, his eyes momentarily rolling to the back of his head as he felt that welcome pressure, the feeling of giving himself over to Flynn completely, the weight and grip of his hand securing Wyatt to the bed, to his body, to the earth. Flynn was deliberate, setting a rhythm with his hand and his hips that matched, not just chasing a high but savoring this, enjoying it.

Wyatt couldn’t beg, couldn’t even speak, everything zeroed down to Flynn’s hand and the feeling of Flynn around him. He stared up helplessly into Flynn’s face, gaze locked with Flynn’s, feeling hypnotized as Flynn took Wyatt all the way inside over, and over, and over…

He didn’t even realize his orgasm was coming until it was there, ripping him apart as Flynn squeezed a final time. Tiny choked mewls worked their way out of his mouth from the back of his throat and he was only vaguely aware of Lucy stroking Flynn’s cock, sending him over the edge as well and spilling all over Wyatt’s chest.

Silence reigned for a few moments as Flynn rolled to the side, both he and Wyatt completely spent. Lucy undid Wyatt’s wrists, and rubbed at the slightly sore skin, gently cooing over the both of them.

At last, Wyatt found words. “Please tell me we can shower in the morning.”

Lucy just kissed him and laughed.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Lucy, fortunately, was.

She waited until they were out taking Joy to the park and to get frozen yogurt.

“I was thinking we could surprise Flynn with a little gift,” she said.

Wyatt was pushing Joy on the swing. “Oh? Like what?”

“You know those leather gloves we saw in the store…?”

Wyatt stared at her and Joy nearly kicked him in the head as she swung back, Wyatt ducking clear just in time. “Daddy, Daddy, you gotta push me!”

“Sorry, ladybug!” Wyatt went back to pushing her. “Yeah, I think that would be nice. Surprise him with a little gift.”

“I knew you’d like the idea. There’s a shop for scarves and leather gloves and cufflinks and those kind of things, we could go there this afternoon if Joy’s okay.”

“She can nap in the stroller, she’ll be fine.”

Joy did in fact conk out in the stroller, curled up with her favorite stuffed elephant (creatively named Mr. Elephant) and with traces of chocolate frozen yogurt still on her face.

The thing about the store that Lucy was taking Wyatt to was that it also had a lot of very nice rings for gentlemen. It was one of those “look like a high class stock broker” type stores for men, which normally she wouldn’t be caught dead in but she had to admit, they kind of knew what they were doing when it came to making men look good.

“These look like class rings,” she noted, pausing by the ring counter in the store.

Wyatt joined her and chuckled. “Yeah. I gave my class ring to Jess, I think she still has it somewhere.”

“I like that one.” Lucy picked out a ring that was made of a dark, almost obsidian looking metal.

“We do engravings,” the salesman noted, smelling a sale.

“Don’t you and Flynn have engravings on yours?” Wyatt asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Lucy teased. “Yes, from Neruda.”

“I’m not a big fan of poetry, y’know, but I ended up reading his stuff because someone—I think it was Flynn actually—left a book of his love sonnets in the bunker and I really liked them.”

Good. That meant Lucy could add another line from the poem to the inside of Wyatt’s ring, so his would match hers and Flynn’s.

“I like that one,” Wyatt noted, pointing at a ring. It had a small engraving at the top of a triangular Celtic knot. “My family’s Scottish, Gramps made a big deal about the whole Celtic thing.”

The triangle, three corners, three sides, a Celtic knot with no beginning and no end… Lucy had to smother her smile. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be around to see the man you became,” she said honestly, focusing on the grandfather aspect instead.

Wyatt sighed, and looked down at Joy. “Yeah. He would’ve spoiled this little bug rotten, I can tell you that much. And I think… he was an old-fashioned guy, y’know. Didn’t understand a lot of… progressive things. But he cared about my happiness. I like to think that if he’d been around to see it… he’d approve of my life choices. Where I am now.”

Lucy squeezed his hand. “I think he would, too.”

They found a good pair of black leather gloves for Flynn, with a gorgeously soft lining on the inside, and purchased them. While Wyatt was busy putting the package in the back of the stroller, she snapped a picture on her phone of the ring that Wyatt had picked out.

 _He likes the Neruda poem,_ she texted Flynn, and attached the picture of the ring to the message.

The next day while Wyatt was out at work, Flynn took his lunch break and met Lucy at the shop after her morning classes.

“We’d like that one,” Lucy said, pointing at the ring. “And you said you did engravings?”

They hid the ring in Flynn’s underwear drawer. Not just yet, but soon… before the twins were born, most definitely.

They just had to figure out the perfect way to ask.


	16. Chapter 16

Wyatt breathed carefully as he lay down on his stomach. Flynn was kissing along his shoulders and petting his lower back as Lucy guided his arms above his head.

“Safeword?” she asked.

“Hindenburg.”

“Safe signal?”

Wyatt held up his index and middle finger, then pressed this thumb beneath them.

“Very good.”

Lucy tied his wrists together, then tied them to the headboard. “Test them for me, pet.”

He tested them, his breath hitching as he felt the lack of give. “Good.”

They had decided it was best that he was tied down for this, so that he couldn’t thrash and accidentally hurt himself. Wyatt agreed, both because it was smart and, well, because it turned him on that much more.

Lucy gently took Wyatt’s hips in her hands and guided him up, up, up, until he was up on his knees, his ass in the air, but his arms stretched out in front of him, his back a diagonal slope, his forehead just barely touching the mattress. Lucy spread his thighs wide, and then Wyatt felt his ankles being secured, one tied to each bedpost.

“Jesus Christ,” Flynn muttered.

“Mmm, yes, he’s perfect like this.”

Wyatt flushed with pleasure at the praise.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Lucy lifted his face gently and kissed his cheeks. “We’re going to let you come, get you nice and relaxed to start out, mmkay?”

“Yes, okay,” Wyatt said, nodding.

As soon as he’d said the words he felt Flynn’s hand on him, slick and warm, stroking him, drawing him from half hardness to aching and leaking as his thumb swiped over the head and he twisted his wrist at the base. For once, Wyatt didn’t have to hold back until Lucy gave the command—he just gave himself over to the sensations, moaning in time with Flynn’s strokes, until he came hard all over the sheets.

“There we go, very good.” Lucy kissed him and then released his head, moving over behind him. Wyatt heard the lube cap and then felt Lucy’s hand sliding down his ass. “Look at you, nice and relaxed.”

He squirmed, feeling the toy still inside there—the toy they’d had him wear all day, just to be extra sure.

After all, Lucy’s body was made to stretch, and theoretically could take two dicks at once since she was supposed to be able to push out an entire goddamn baby. Wyatt’s body was not made for that at all, and so Lucy and Flynn had felt that extra preparation was necessary.

He’d been going around all day with a goddamn plug in, struggling not to find just the right way to sit so that he could grind onto it and come, struggling to focus through work and lunch and all the rest with that tease going on.

Now Lucy was delicately taking the edges of the base in her fingers and drawing it out. Wyatt clenched instinctively, feeling oddly empty and bereft, and Lucy chuckled. “There there, sweetheart, you’ll be nice and full again before long.”

She slid her fingers into him, slicked up, two to start, and Wyatt pushed back into the touch as much as he could.

“Oh, yes, very good, look at you, greedy boy.” Lucy added a third finger but avoided his prostate, scissoring her fingers to stretch him. “Think you’re ready for more? Be honest now.”

Wyatt nodded. “Yes, yes, been ready—been ready four hours, Lucy, please—”

“Ah-ah, what’s my title?”

“Mistress, please mistress.” Usually Lucy liked ‘ma’am’ but sometimes she got in a mood and wanted to be called ‘slut’ or ‘mistress’. Today was, as she’d earlier stated when they’d been going over everything, a mistress day.

Wyatt had once thought that pure spontaneity in the bedroom was the best. If he knew everything that was going to happen, how could it stay exciting? But BDSM required careful negotiation and discussion beforehand, so that everyone knew what was happening and everyone was on board and okay with it.

And Wyatt found that foreknowledge only increased his desire, his anticipation, rather than decreasing it.

“What are you ready for?” Lucy asked, pride and pleasure in her voice at being addressed the way she wanted.

“Your fist, mistress, please.”

“Now that’s a very good boy, asking so nicely. You’re so naughty, aren’t you? Wanting more and more, wanting to be touched like this, tied down and fucked every way that you can be. Toys, fingers, cock… you don’t even care do you? You just love it all.”

Wyatt could still remember vividly when this sort of thing made him cringe in shame, when he would’ve protested that it was ‘unmanly’, emasculating, even. But he understood better, now—if it made him feel good, then there was no shame in it. He trusted Lucy, and he felt good, and she and Flynn felt good, they were all having fun, and that was all that mattered.

“Do you love it?” Lucy asked, clearly wanting a verbal response.

“Yes, mistress, yes, I do.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Relax now, sweetheart.”

A large, warm hand slid up his back, until it was gently clasping his neck, and Wyatt relaxed instantly into the touch—Flynn—feeling Flynn’s thumb swiping back and forth across his skin.

Lucy thrust her fingers into him a few more times, and then he felt them shifting, changing position, a fourth, a fifth finger added, pushing, pushing, pushing—

Wyatt gasped for breath and struggled to hold still as Lucy’s knuckles pushed ever so slowly past his entrance. “Holy fucking shit,” he babbled. “Shit, fuck, shit, Lu—mistress, oh God, oh my God, holy fuck—”

“Shh, _prljavi dečko_ ,” Flynn hushed him, squeezing the back of his neck lightly and kissing down his arm. “ _Dobar dečko, tako pohlepan_.”

Wyatt shuddered. He knew what _dečko_ meant now but was still unsure on the adjectives Flynn used—he knew they were greedy, good, naughty, and so on, but he wasn’t sure which was which.

Didn’t matter. It all sounded hot as fuck rolling off Flynn’s tongue.

Lucy just rocked her fist back and forth gently, rotating, twisting her fingers, her knuckles brushing back and forth against his entrance as Wyatt whimpered constantly, unable to stop himself. He could feel his cock starting to fill between his legs again, getting heavy and hard, and he knew the moment Flynn noticed, because Flynn laughed lowly and roughly, almost to himself.

“Hard again already, look at you. You were just made for this.” Flynn used his free hand to drag his nails along Wyatt’s stomach, scratching, the pleasure-pain leaving him panting. “ _Ti si stvorena za nas_ ,” Flynn murmured, like an afterthought, like he didn’t even know he’d spoken it out loud.

Wyatt wanted to ask what that meant, but then Lucy was pulling her fist out, gently, massaging his stomach lightly as she did so, and Wyatt was, well, distracted.

“Flynn,” she whispered. “Come here.”

Flynn obeyed immediately, and Wyatt heard him groan, slick sounds filling the air, and then he could hear them kissing—heard the lube again—and then the familiar sensation of Flynn’s cock against his entrance shot electricity through him.

“Oh, _fuck_ yes,” Wyatt groaned.

“Impatient much?” Flynn teased, and then he was pushing in smoothly, all at once, sinking in like he belonged there and stealing Wyatt’s planned response right out of his mouth.

Lucy kissed him all over, kissed Flynn, kissed both of them back and forth as he and Flynn adjusted. There was so much lube now that Wyatt could feel it sliding down his thighs, and he knew it was necessary for what was happening soon, but he also liked it, made him feel that extra dirty-wrong thrill that he craved.

A shrink would probably tell him it was because he was doing shit he knew his entire hometown would want him arrested for but hey, who cared? He’d given up trying to over-analyze that shit.

Especially when it brought such good results.

“You good, pet?” Lucy asked. “You ready to play?”

“Yes, mistress,” Wyatt replied automatically.

“Mmm but do you really mean that, or are you just saying that?”

“I really mean it,” Wyatt said, truthfully. “I do, I’m ready to be—to be a good pet. A good plaything.”

“I’m so glad you’re being honest.” Lucy pet his hair, his cheek, kissed his shoulder. Lucy had been clear from the start of this—she would take him saying ‘no’ honestly over a ‘yes’ that was a lie, and Wyatt felt a fresh surge of pleasure buzzing through his chest at her praise.

On Lucy’s whispered instructions, Flynn started to move. Slow and steady, not too deep, just getting Wyatt used to the movement, keeping him stretched.

He didn’t know when it was going to happen, just that it would be soon, just that it couldn’t be too long or he’d stop being as loose from Lucy’s fist, just that—

“Oh _fuck_!” He felt himself being stretched further, almost to the point of fear, as Lucy started to slide a slicked-up toy into him.

It wasn’t the biggest one, the one that imitated an actual cock size. It was smaller than that, for sure, both because again, his body wasn’t made for this, and because this was his first time with the two-for-one special.

But holy shit, he wanted to do this again.

Lucy was right, he felt _full_. Everything else flew out of his head. He barely even noticed the restraints around his wrists and feet. The rest of his body felt almost insubstantial compared to the _ohfuckohwowohsofullsofullsofull_ litany chanting in his head right now. He felt stuffed, like he was being pushed to the brink and dangerously close to tipping over the edge, but wasn’t falling quite yet.

He trusted Lucy not to let him fall.

“Shh,” Lucy murmured, kissing and petting him, and Wyatt realized he’d been begging, babbling really. He didn’t even know what he was saying. God, he was on fire, he was drowning, he had never felt more grounded and heavy but he also felt like he might float away. He was so intensely in the present moment, each breath exquisite torture, and he understood why Lucy liked this so much, why she’d coaxed Flynn into doing it for her.

“Garcia,” Lucy said, her voice still soft. “You can move now. Start slow.”

Flynn did as he was told and Wyatt sobbed, caught off guard by the sound, by the sensation, oh holy fuck it was so good, so very good, orgasm had never felt so close or so far away before, at the same time—

Lucy started to move the dildo, angling it, having it thrust in time with Flynn’s cock, then in counterpoint, then in time again, and Wyatt couldn’t keep track of the angle and oh dear _God_ he couldn’t even try to think anymore he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t… he was begging, babbling, swearing, and became dimly aware of his body jerking and thrusting—or trying to. Thanks to the restraints, he was forced to stay pretty much in one place. Flynn’s hands at his hips, gripping tight enough that Wyatt could practically feel the bruises forming, helped with that too. He was restrained, held, unable to do anything but take and submit to what Lucy and Flynn gave him.

It was driving him so out of his mind with hot, honey-lava pleasure, sweet and burning at the same time, that he stopped using words altogether and just started moaning and crying out, his throat raw.

Just when he started to think he couldn’t take it anymore—just when he thought the burn was starting to outweigh the pleasure—Flynn shifted his angle and hit his prostate and Wyatt just about screamed, reduced to a quivering mess as Flynn hit that spot over and over. If he hadn’t been restrained he would’ve been a writhing mess, flat on the bed, his knees unable to hold himself up.

“Do you want to come?” Lucy asked.

Wyatt scrambled for words, trying to put them together, to construct even the simplest of thoughts. “Ye—es…”

“Yes, what?”

Oh, Jesus, fuck, holy—what had she wanted—oh oh _oh_ — “Yes, mistress.”

“With both of them inside you? Or just Flynn?”

“B-both, please, mistress.” The last word turned into a helpless moan.

Lucy kept the toy inside him, thrusting in time with Flynn’s cock, as her hand wrapped around and stroked Wyatt’s cock.

She’d barely done even a stroke and he was coming, white everywhere, like he was a firework, a barrel of TNT, a supernova, screaming without sound, sobbing without tears, not even realizing when Flynn and Lucy pulled out, just thrusting and twisting and whimpering as he came until—

Well, all right, until he passed out, but he wasn’t going to admit that to anyone outside of this bedroom.

He came to, collapsed on the bed, with Lucy undoing his restraints and Flynn next to him, the two of them a pile of sweaty limbs.

“Was I good?” he managed, his voice muzzy, his head still up in the clouds. He felt great, so great, beyond great.

Flynn managed to scoot forward to kiss his nose, and Lucy stroked the side of his face. “I came so hard watching you,” Lucy told him. “And Flynn came right after you did. That was so hot, you were a very good pet, don’t you worry.”

Wyatt managed a lazy, pleased smile, and then passed out again, tangled up with Flynn as Lucy hummed in the background.

 

* * *

 

Lucy loved these moments afterwards. These moments where her boys were out of their heads, and soft and trusting, these moments where they let her take care of them.

Wyatt clung to her with clumsy fingers, his head in her lap as she hummed and petted his hair. “Such a good pet,” she cooed. “Such a good greedy boy for me.”

She kept petting him as he slowly came down from the high of overstimulation, and reached out her other hand to pet Flynn as well. “So good for me,” she whispered to him. “My darling, you did so well.”

Flynn smiled tiredly up at her.

“Skin hungry?” she asked.

Flynn nodded, not yet ready for words.

Lucy gently took Wyatt out of her lap, shushing him soothingly when he whimpered. “Can you say my name, pet?”

“Lucy,” Wyatt mumbled.

“Very good.” She had to make sure Wyatt didn’t go too far into a bad headspace—they’d thrown him into the deep end, so to speak, with being a sub and sometimes she could see him starting to float away and he had to be present in the moment, always. If a sub got dropped into sub space, it could be like a rush, a drug, an addictive headspace they had to chase, even up to dangerous levels.

Lucy would never let that happen to her boys.

She curled up with her back to Flynn, letting him wrap himself around her. She’d wiped them both down with a wet, warm cloth, making sure they were clean, and she’d checked Wyatt for any bruising or tearing.

Lucy pulled Wyatt into her arms, Flynn a warm weight at her back. Wyatt tucked his head under her chin, and she resumed petting his hair as Flynn held onto her tightly and idly kissed along the back of her neck.

“Such good boys,” she murmured. She kissed Wyatt’s forehead, then turned so that she could kiss Flynn, soft and slow.

She lay there, petting them both, knowing she’d taken care of them, knowing they trusted her completely, knowing she’d done a good job being in charge.

There was no better feeling in the world.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt counted the number of cupcakes, just to be sure. “Yup, we have all of them.”

“Okay,” Jess said, her voice strained as she got up onto her tiptoes to hang streamers. “I’m almost finished here.”

It was Joy’s third birthday, and now she was old enough to really start to appreciate it, they were having a small party. Just everyone coming over for food and stuff.

Joy was currently asleep for her nap, so Wyatt and Jess were stealthily decorating the living room of the apartment so she’d be surprised when she woke up.

“How are things with you and Amy?” Wyatt asked, placing the cupcakes in the center of the table and then putting some brightly wrapped presents behind them.

Jess got down off the ladder and grinned at him. “Amazing. She’s amazing. Oh my God. Although she’s ready to stop being pregnant.”

“How much longer until she’s due?”

“Three months, feels like forever but it’ll be here before she knows it.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Jess flipped him off.

Wyatt’s stomach twisted. Three months. Then Lucy and Flynn would obviously be too busy raising not just one but two infants to think about having a sex buddy.

It didn’t help that the last few days leading up to the party, Lucy and Flynn had been a bit… not distant, exactly, but yeah. Distant. Wyatt had been spending a lot of time with Joy and usually he spent it with Joy and Lucy, or Joy and Flynn, or Joy and both of them, so just being alone was… good, of course it was good, he loved his daughter, but…

Wyatt cleared his throat. “Uh, Jess, I don’t suppose you know—did the landlord say she was going to have any units opening up soon?”

Jess shrugged. “Not that I know of but I could ask, why?”

“No reason, just curious.”

Jess eyed him, but then there was a soft knock at the door. Wyatt grinned. That would be the adults arriving to surprise Joy.

He went in once everyone was assembled and sat on the edge of Joy’s bed. It felt like every time he saw her his heart filled anew with how much he loved her. She hadn’t been expected or planned for, not like Lucy and Flynn’s upcoming babies, but God, had he wanted her the moment he’d known of her potential existence.

“Hey, ladybug,” he said softly, gently shaking Joy’s shoulder. “Time to wake up.”

Joy opened her eyes sleepily. Wyatt smiled. “C’mere, let’s get you some lunch. A special lunch for the birthday girl, does that sound good?”

Joy nodded, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, then holding up her arms. “Up!”

“You’re getting too big for this,” Wyatt warned, but he picked her up and carried her out.

Joy’s face—dutifully recorded by Rufus—when she saw everyone waiting for her with presents and cupcakes was definitely in Wyatt’s top ten moments of all time.

“Hey,” Wyatt said, grinning as Joy was doted on by everyone else and Lucy and Flynn took the opportunity to come up to him. God, they were a good-looking couple.

“Hey yourself,” Flynn said as Lucy grabbed a cupcake. “We talked with Jess, and we were thinking—maybe you should spend the next few days with Joy?”

Lucy started to say something, but then Amy grabbed her and she made some kind of weird hand motion instead before she was dragged off with cupcake still in her mouth.

Wyatt felt sick. “Um, yeah, of course.” He should spend more time with her, but… why was Flynn saying that? “Is Jess too tired?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all.” Flynn paused. “You’re a good dad, Wyatt, Jess doesn’t feel like you’re not pulling your weight.”

Wyatt nodded. So Flynn and Lucy just needed him to stop spending so much time with them.

It had already started.

“Yeah, no problem.” He forced a smile onto his face. After all, who didn’t want to spend more time with their kid?

Maybe this was what he should be focusing on. Joy loved him unconditionally and he should be giving his time to her, not to two people who wouldn’t ever see him the way that he saw them.

Flynn frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Wyatt caught sight of Mason flinging Joy up into the air. “Connor, could you not!?”

He took the opportunity to walk around Flynn and go to grab his daughter, and tried hard not to think about Lucy and Flynn.

 

* * *

 

Lucy was helping clean up the dishes when Jess approached. “Hey, you got a sec?”

She looked up. “Of course.” She braced her hands on the edge of the sink. “What’s up?”

Jess leaned against the counter. “Is Wyatt… is everything okay between you three?”

“As far as I know…” Lucy’s heart did a nervous flip. “Why?”

“He asked me if our landlord had any units opening up. Like he’s looking for an apartment.”

“What?” Why would Wyatt be doing that? He was perfectly happy with them…

Unless he wasn’t.

Lucy swallowed hard. Had she—had they—were they wrong? Did Wyatt not—did he see this as temporary?

“Just thought I’d ask,” Jess said. “In case you needed help. He can be an idiot.”

“Um, no, everything’s good, but thank you, Jess. Really, thank you.”

Lucy kept the smile on her face until Jess had gone to finish packing up the leftover cupcakes, and then started scrubbing the dishes harder than ever before.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d hurt her heart once.

Why on earth had she not seen he’d do it again?

 

* * *

 

Flynn stared into the middle distance.

But Wyatt had been… soft, and relaxed, and comfortable, they’d thought… they’d invited him into their _bed_ , their _home_ , their _lives_ , and he’d slid in just like he’d always belonged there, how could—how could he not—

Well it didn’t matter how. He didn’t. Lucy had told him what Jess had said: Wyatt was looking for an apartment. To move out.

Apparently, while they’d wanted him to join them in a forever kind of way, Wyatt had been thinking of this all as temporary.

Fingers snapped in his face. “Earth! To Flynn!”

He blinked, everything coming into focus. “What?”

Jiya raised her eyebrows at him. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for about five minutes, what the hell is up?”

Flynn and Jiya had developed a kind of… well he was reluctant to say it because of Iris, and Jiya was reluctant to say it because of her own father, but a father-daughter relationship was basically what it was. Now, out of the bunker, he got lunch with her occasionally.

“Nothing,” he said, a little too quickly.

“Is it the twins?” Jiya asked.

Flynn shook his head. “Amy’s healthy, the babies are healthy, we’ve got the nursery and everything set up. It’s going to be fine.”

Or so he told himself. He wasn’t worried so much about the childbirth aspect as he was about losing them afterwards. The sound of the ‘silenced’ guns in the dead of night still rang in his ears.

Lucy was the one worried about childbirth, and so he tried to be confident for her sake.

“Then what is it?” Jiya asked.

Flynn sighed. “It’s Wyatt.”

Jiya blinked a few times. “What has the idiot done now?”

Flynn shrugged. “We saw our… relationship as permanent. When Lucy and I asked him to join us… maybe we should’ve seen warning signs, I don’t know. But we asked him to move in with us, to live with us, and so when he agreed we thought… that he felt the same way. But now Jess says he was asking her about apartments.”

Jiya raised an eyebrow at him. “Satisfy my curiosity,” she said. “How did you ask him to be in a relationship with you? Did you say, hey we want you to be with us?”

“Not exactly. It was all a little… fast, and it just sort of fell together.”

“Your relationship with Lucy started in a sex dungeon and you spent about six months refusing to admit you were in love with her, forgive me for worrying about how you get yourself into relationships.”

“I don’t sleep with people I don’t have feelings for,” Flynn snapped. “I’m horrible with people, especially flirting, so why even bother to try unless the person’s really worth it? My right hand is fine otherwise. I’ve been with only two people before now. One was my long-term boyfriend and my best friend, and the other was my wife. I would’ve spent the rest of my life with her. Wyatt knows that, so when he started being with us I thought—I thought he knew he had my heart in his hands but I guess he didn’t because now he’s getting ready to walk away without any warning.”

Jiya tilted her head at him. “Wyatt’s a pretty stupid person, Flynn. I recall Lucy getting pretty direct with him over the whole Jess thing and it still took him forever to get the point. Maybe you haven’t hit him over the head hard enough? Buy him some more roses or something.”

“We bought a ring,” Flynn mumbled.

Jiya’s mouth dropped open. “You _what_.”

“We bought him a ring, all right? I think that’s a little more permanent than roses.”

“Without making sure he was on the same page as you? Flynn, the man has a daughter already, a family, you didn’t think maybe—he just came out as bi, you didn’t think that maybe this was all super convenient for him?”

“I wanted to believe better of him, okay? I wanted to think that he knew what he was getting into this time, that he had his head on straight!”

“Tell him you love him,” Jiya said. “Have you said that? Out loud?”

Flynn tried to think back. Surely he’d said it at one point. Hadn’t he?

Jiya sighed. “Tell him you love him and let the chips fall where they may. It’s not like you have anything to lose at this point. Wyatt might not realize he’s hurting you, he might think that it’s casual for all of you.”

“I don’t feel like getting humiliated on top of it all, thanks.”

Jiya shrugged. “Your loss. But if you ask me, you need to just tell Wyatt how you feel. He might even surprise you.”

Flynn looked at her narrowly. “Did you look into the future for this?”

Jiya shook her head. “I solemnly swear, any information I may or may not have did not come from my visions.”

Flynn left the lunch no less upset, but a hell of a lot more confused.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt called Rufus while looking through a real estate website.

He wanted to get out long enough before the twins came so it wasn’t a rough transition. Close to Jess’s apartment would be preferable so he was close to Joy, but he could make a commute work.

“What’s up?” Rufus said as he answered.

“Hey, man, just wondering, if worse comes to worse could I couch surf with you for a week or two?”

“And you’re asking me instead of Denise with her big house because…”

“I might die with her mom-ing me twenty four seven again.”

“You deserved to be mom’d in that bunker, dude, you were the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in.”

“Why are you looking for a place to couch surf anyway?”

“Lucy and Flynn have been giving me… hints that I should spend more time away from them. They won’t go with me when I have Joy anymore. They’re distancing themselves. I’m—I’m pretty sure they’re going to ask me to move out when the twins are born.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Wyatt shoved the laptop away from himself and sat back on the couch—the couch where he cuddled with Lucy and Flynn, watching movies and doing work and just sitting and being together, shooting the breeze.

Fuck. He rubbed at his eyes. He should’ve never said yes to this arrangement, he should’ve known he’d end up hurt, he should’ve…

“Wyatt,” Rufus said carefully, “do Lucy and Flynn know you’re in love with them?”

“Fuck no, and they never will.” He wasn’t going to deal with their pity along with everything else.

“Okay,” Rufus said, drawing out the word. “I’m going to hang up now, and I think you should tell them you’re in love with them.”

“Rufus, Rufus no, that’s, Rufus don’t you da—”

Rufus hung up.

Goddammit.

 

* * *

 

Lucy sat with Amy in the waiting room for the next appointment. Amy glanced at her. “You seem nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous.” Lucy smiled at her. “I want you and the babies to be okay. You know Mom had a hard time with you.”

“Not about that.” Amy struggled to find a position to sit that was comfortable. “Something else. You seem… heavier. Like something’s weighing you down.”

Lucy looked away. Of course Amy could see right through her. “It’s… it’s nothing, really.”

“Oh, Luce, c’mon. You can tell me.”

Lucy looked back at her sister. “So Flynn and I… you know what a big deal it was to ask Wyatt to—to join us. Live with us. Flynn especially, he doesn’t—he’s so closed off and he was so worried about it all and we were—we were so happy. I thought… we thought…” She looked down at the floor, at her feet, feeling small. “We bought a ring. We were going to do things right, even if we can’t do things legally.”

“He said no?” Amy asked, her eyes wide.

Lucy shook her head. “Jess told us he’s looking for an apartment. He wants to move out. I guess…” She shrugged. “I guess… I don’t know. I got burned by him once, I should’ve known better than to go back for seconds.”

Amy opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head. “Wyatt’s changed a lot since that time.”

“I know. It’s our fault, we never—we never said how we felt, exactly. I guess with asking him to move in and sleeping with him and—and sharing our lives with him, I thought it was clear. Obvious. But—I know he wouldn’t mean to hurt us. He probably thinks that we think it’s casual too. That the whole housing thing was just for you and Jess and not because we want…” Lucy squeezed her hands together tightly.

“I was so excited for him to help with the babies,” she whispered.

Amy wrapped an arm around her. “I know, Luce, I know.”

Lucy leaned into her sister and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Trying to block it all out—the waiting room, the twist in her stomach, the emotions.

It didn’t work.

 

* * *

 

Flynn came home to find Wyatt in the kitchen. Wyatt could cook when he had to, although he didn’t enjoy it too much, so Flynn wasn’t sure why Wyatt was in there until he saw the huge can of Pringles that Wyatt was eating.

“You’ll spoil your appetite for dinner,” Flynn teased. The sounds felt a little forced as he tried to make himself sound lighthearted when he wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to be crabby at Wyatt just because he and Lucy had made the mistake of thinking this was more serious than it was.

If they’d been up front with Wyatt from the beginning… but no, if they had, Wyatt would’ve said it was more casual and they would’ve never had any of this. Flynn didn’t do casual, everyone knew that, and so he wouldn’t have let himself go on this journey with Wyatt.

He didn’t know if getting to have Wyatt halfway was better or worse than not getting him at all.

Wyatt shrugged. “So?”

Flynn paused in front of the fridge. “…you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Wyatt was scrolling through something on his phone. Flynn could just barely see the screen—it was one of those apartment-finding apps.

Something inside of Flynn went just a little bit crazy.

He might not have Wyatt’s heart the way that he’d thought. But Wyatt let Flynn fuck him and boss him around, and that sullen attitude was scratching dangerously at the dominant itch Flynn got around Wyatt.

Flynn took the Pringles away from Wyatt and set them just out of his reach, ignoring Wyatt’s protest. “Sounds to me like someone’s got a bit of an attitude today.”

Wyatt flushed but glared at him. “And sounds to me like someone thinks he can tell me what to do. I’m a fucking adult.”

“You sure? You aren’t acting like it.”

Wyatt tried to snatch the can of Pringles back. Flynn shoved it, harder than he’d meant to, and the can accidentally went flying off the counter, sending chips everywhere.

“Seriously?” Wyatt demanded, dropping his phone and pushing himself up off the counter. “What are you, five?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Wyatt lightly shoved at him to try and get around to pick up the chips, but Flynn grabbed his wrist, twisting him, pushing Wyatt against the counter and bending him over, pressing himself up against Wyatt’s back and ass.

“You know, you’re so good for us,” Flynn mused, “that I almost forgot what an attitude you can have.”

Wyatt swore and yanked at Flynn's grip, but Flynn twisted Wyatt’s arm behind his back and used it as leverage to push Wyatt down, until Wyatt’s cheek was pressed against the cool tile of the counter.

“I wondered when you’d get bratty,” Flynn went on. Fire was in his blood, his lungs, licking up his throat. “Wondered when I’d have to teach you a proper lesson.”

Wyatt strained against him, and that roll of his hips so that his ass pushed up against Flynn’s crotch had to be purposeful, but—

Flynn grabbed the back of Wyatt’s neck and held him down so that between that and his arm wrenched behind his back, Wyatt was now pretty much at Flynn’s mercy unless he wanted to risk breaking a bone (his or Flynn’s, it was a fifty-fifty shot) to escape.

Flynn waited, waited, waited for the safe word, waited for Wyatt to call out.

Wyatt didn’t.

Instead he snapped, “You want to punish me? Fine. Go ahead. Show me what you got.”

Flynn squeezed Wyatt’s neck, then yanked his hair, forcing Wyatt’s head back, exposing his throat. He had to feel vulnerable like this, completely—theoretically—at Flynn’s mercy. “You sure about this?” he asked.

Even when Lucy had been in her most disciplinarian mood, she still asked, and Flynn wasn’t going to pass up giving Wyatt that chance to back out.

“Just say the word,” Flynn said, “and I’ll let go and I’ll start making dinner.”

Wyatt made a small whimpering noise. “I… I want this.” He strained to make eye contact with Flynn. “I want you to punish me.”

Jesus Christ. Flynn released his hold on Wyatt’s hair and grabbed his hips, pushing Wyatt’s ass up and sliding his hand around to the front to undo Wyatt’s jeans.

“To start out with, then…” He lightly cupped Wyatt’s cock through his underwear and Wyatt whined.

He pulled his hand away and yanked Wyatt’s jeans down. “Start counting.”

“Start—what?”

Flynn smacked Wyatt’s ass and Wyatt yelped.

“That’s one,” Flynn said helpfully.

Wyatt growled.

Flynn yanked on his hair again. “I don’t hear you counting.”

“One,” Wyatt gasped.

Flynn released him. “See, you can behave.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Wyatt challenged.

Flynn spanked him again. “You’re finding out. Now how many is that?”

“…two.”

“Y’know, I’m not sure. You seem so unsure about counting, maybe we should start over.”

Wyatt whined, twisting. “Garcia come _on_ …”

Flynn growled. “No.”

Wyatt stood up, yanking his head back and headbutting Flynn, who released Wyatt with a shout, giving Wyatt leverage to spin around and grab Flynn by the shirt.

Flynn shoved Wyatt back, making Wyatt bang his head on the cabinet by accident. Wyatt scrambled for purchase, grabbing the ceramic flour jar that sat there, and ended up knocking it over instead, flour and glass crashing to the floor.

“You’re cleaning that up.”

“You started it!” Wyatt yanked Flynn shirt up and over his head and then threw it to the side. “Motherfucker—”

Flynn shoved Wyatt’s jeans the rest of the way off, and then his underwear too, hearing a distinctive _rip_ as he did so. Shit. Well, Wyatt had other pairs.

“What bug crawled up your ass?” Flynn asked as Wyatt attacked his pants.

“Why don’t you get up there and find out?” Wyatt shot back.

Flynn got his hand around Wyatt’s throat, shoving him back, pinning his head to the cupboard. Wyatt growled, baring his teeth. Flynn kissed him in response, savage, not caring about being gentle, just shoving his tongue right in.

Wyatt retaliated by biting on Flynn’s lip, because of course he did. Flynn squeezed his throat, delighting in the choked noise Wyatt made, and then let go so that he could get Wyatt’s shirt off.

“This doesn’t—feel—too much like punishment,” Wyatt managed to choke out as Flynn bit his neck.

“Oh, did you want it to?” Flynn asked.

He grabbed Wyatt and yanked him off the counter, then turned him around and bent him over the kitchen island. “Hands above your head.”

“Make me.”

Oh, that was a challenge if he'd ever heard one. Flynn used his weight to press himself down over Wyatt, pinning him, and then grabbed Wyatt’s wrists, holding him down no matter how much Wyatt squirmed. Wyatt had conveniently flung Flynn’s shirt so that it had landed on the corner of the island—Flynn grabbed it, using it to tie Wyatt’s wrists together and keep them above his head.

“Stay. Still.” He smacked Wyatt’s ass again for good measure and turned to try and something that would work as a substitute for lube.

“Three,” Wyatt said, counting and therefore technically obeying, but the sarcastic tone in his voice was far from compliant.

Lucy was going to kill him for grabbing the olive oil but he was not walking all the way upstairs with a hard on to get the supplies from the bedroom drawer, thanks.

Wyatt had managed to prop himself up on his elbows and was glaring. “That better be sanitary.”

“Y’know I’m not sure you get to talk right now.” Flynn grabbed Wyatt’s hair and pressed his face down onto the counter. “Good boys get to talk, you don’t.”

Wyatt was panting harshly, a whine lodged in the back of his throat. Even as he glared at Flynn, he pushed himself back into Flynn’s touch, flushed all over, needy.

“Are you ready to behave?” Flynn asked. He spilled some oil on the floor, trying to hold Wyatt down and slick his fingers up at the same time, but at this point there were ground-up chips, flour, glass, and God knew what else all over so it was just one more thing to add to the list.

“What do I get if I do?” Wyatt replied, still sounding too damn cocky for his own good.

“You get to actually come,” Flynn growled, shoving a finger inside without any warning.

Wyatt yelped, then groaned, pushing back into the touch.

“If you want to keep disobeying that’s up to you,” Flynn said. “I’ll just fuck you hard as I want, and then leave you like this. Filthy and needy. You’ll have to take care of yourself. Or maybe Lucy will take pity on you when she comes home.”

He twisted his finger and Wyatt shuddered, small noises working their way out of his mouth.

Flynn tugged sharply at his hair. “No. Noise.”

He saw Wyatt swallow down a whimper, his blue eyes black and wide.

“That’s better.” Flynn kept twisting his finger, curling it, searching, until Wyatt jerked violently and Flynn watched him bite his lip viciously to keep in whatever noise he’d wanted to make.

Flynn hit that spot again, and again, and each time Wyatt jerked and shook. “You’re very good about coming when we tell you,” Flynn noted. “If you’re good and you don’t make any noise, keep that smart mouth of yours shut the whole time, I’ll let you come—just on this one finger.”

Wyatt’s eyes went wide and his nails clawed at the island top, struggling to find something to grip.

“You can speak to say yes or no.”

“I—I don’t know if—if I can—”

“Oh, you can.” Just one finger was a tease, and a cruel one, especially with nothing touching his cock, but Flynn had faith in him. They’d trained him well. “We’ve let you get too greedy, I think you have to learn how to make do just with this.”

“Garcia, _please_.” Wyatt’s voice broke on the second word. “I want you to fuck me, I want—please I’ll be so good, I promise—”

“No, you wanted to be punished, this is your punishment.” Flynn paused, then leaned in, ghosting his lips along the shell of Wyatt’s ear. “If you really can’t handle it, just say the word. I’ll fuck you, and we’ll go nice and slow, and you’ll be my good boy again.”

Wyatt swallowed. “I want you to punish me,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I heard that.”

Wyatt took a deep breath. “Please, please punish me, I—I like when I’m good and I like when you praise me but I was a brat and I want to be punished.”

Jesus Christ. Between this man and the woman he’d married, Flynn knew he was going to die of a heart attack at some point. “You were a brat,” he growled, pressing Wyatt’s face back into the cool countertop of the island. “So you’ll be treated like one. Stay silent, and come just from this—but one sound, and you don’t get to come at all. You don’t even get to touch yourself. You get to go to bed frustrated. Understood?”

When they’d first started this, Flynn would’ve had no idea if Wyatt would obey that order. Wyatt was a grown man, he could hop into the shower and do whatever he damn well pleased. Flynn wasn’t going to babysit him twenty four-seven to make sure his orders were followed.

But now—Wyatt might see this as a casual thing emotionally but sexually, Flynn knew without a shadow of a doubt that Wyatt would do as he was told. If Flynn told him to go to bed without touching himself, without an orgasm, then Wyatt would do it.

Wyatt nodded instead of saying anything. “Very good. You might still be capable of listening after all.”

He fastened his hand on the back of Wyatt’s neck, his thumb at Wyatt’s pulse point, feeling it hammering away, as he kept working him with just the one finger.

Wyatt shook violently, his hips hitching as he struggled to push himself back into Flynn’s touch. Flynn ruthlessly kept pressing and rubbing against Wyatt’s prostate, ignoring his own desire, even as the pressure built between his legs and the desire to open Wyatt up properly and fuck him grew stronger with each passing second.

He shoved that desire down. He’d deal with himself later. First, he was going to reduce Wyatt to a shivering wreck.

Not that it would take long for Wyatt to get there. He was clawing at the countertop, his back heaving with each breath, and Flynn was pretty damn sure Wyatt’s legs weren’t actually holding him up anymore.

But it was hard—no pun intended—to get someone off with that little stimulation, just that teasing touch, and without anything else.

So Flynn switched his touch on Wyatt’s neck, releasing him and then sliding his hand underneath, gripping Wyatt’s throat and yanking his head up that way, not quite squeezing but keeping a firm grip.

Wyatt’s throat worked, but he managed to keep silent, and no sound came out as he jerked, writhed, practically humping the island as he came.

Flynn released him at once, giving Wyatt no time to recover, whirling him around and shoving him to his knees. “You still need to work on your smart mouth.” He got his hand around Wyatt’s jaw and squeezed, forcing Wyatt to open his mouth. “Let’s give it something better to do.”

Wyatt visibly swallowed again, probably stifling a noise, and then opened his mouth more, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes locked onto Flynn’s cock.

Flynn waited for Wyatt’s eyes to flick back up to Flynn’s face, then raised an eyebrow.

Wyatt gave a slight nod.

Flynn gripped the base of his cock and slowly fed it into Wyatt’s mouth, Wyatt’s eyes fluttering closed. “No,” Flynn growled, tugging on Wyatt’s hair. “Eyes open, on my face.”

Wyatt opened his eyes, his lashes fluttering, as Flynn guided more of his cock in, until Wyatt made a gagging noise and he stopped, pulling out slightly.

“I need to see your face, your eyes,” he said, his voice caught halfway between stern and soft. “I need to know how you’re doing.”

Wyatt nodded slightly, then started to suck.

Flynn tugged on his hair again. “No. You don’t get to do anything. You’ve proven you can’t be trusted. You’re going to keep that pretty mouth of yours open, and I’m going to fuck it, and you’re going to let me use you. Just like a good plaything, a good little toy. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be?”

Wyatt was breathing harshly through his nose, face bright pink, and the hair that wasn’t caught up in Flynn’s hand was sticking to his face with sweat. He managed to nod a bit.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Flynn’s voice came out rough and breathless, less in control than he wanted. Wyatt’s mouth was warm and slick, and he was straining to hold back and not thrust in with abandon. Despite his harsh words, he didn’t want Wyatt to choke, didn’t want to actually hurt him. “That’s right, you’re our pretty little pet, you better remember that.”

Wyatt kept silent, but the look on his face was the same one he got when he was usually whining and whimpering, and Flynn could easily imagine the noises that Wyatt was desperately swallowing down. God, yes, that was hotter than he’d planned, Wyatt unable to voice his arousal when he frantically wanted to, and Flynn sped up his thrusts, trying to keep them shallow, trying not to choke Wyatt, trying—oh fuck, trying—

Flynn kept Wyatt’s head in place as he came and Wyatt managed to swallow a lot of it, far more practiced than he’d been his first time but still coughing, still letting some leak out and drip onto the floor. He was a fucking mess, shivering, hands still bound, hair alternately sticking up and plastered to his forehead, his face stained, his whole body flushed, oil sliding down his legs.

Flynn almost wanted to take a picture to preserve it.

He got down on his knees, untying Wyatt’s wrists. “Now, that was surprisingly well behaved,” he noted. He got to his feet and grabbed Wyatt by the throat, using that as a guiding grip to get Wyatt to stumble to his feet. “You can make noise now. If that’s even possible for you.”

Wyatt whimpered, pressing into the touch. “Holy _shit_ ,” he rasped, his throat abused.

“Do you think you’ve been punished enough?” Flynn asked.

Wyatt’s gaze darted around Flynn’s face. “I…” He seemed to be looking for an answer, worried about getting it wrong.

Just as Flynn was about to help him along, Wyatt managed, “If—if you think I’ve been punished enough, sir. Whatever you decide, sir.”

Hoooooly mother of God. If Flynn could’ve fucked him right then and there then he would have.

“Now that’s a good pet,” he said, petting Wyatt’s hair.

Wyatt immediately went boneless, his legs giving out as he sagged against Flynn.

Flynn rubbed his back, struggling against the urge to crush Wyatt to him, to hold onto him so tightly that Flynn could never let him go, that Wyatt could never leave.

“What the _fuck_ did you two do to the kitchen!?” Lucy shouted.

…oh. Well then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Croatian is "dirty boy, good boy, so greedy," and "you were made for us."


	17. Chapter 17

“What happened here?” Lucy demanded.

Her kitchen was—well, it wasn’t her kitchen so much as Flynn’s. There was literally a sign taped to the fridge that said,

 _Darling, touch nothing but the microwave_.

Just because she’d set one teensy little fire that one time…

But holy crap.

There were crushed potato chips, flour, glass shards, and oil on the floor and on the counter. Clothes were scattered everywhere. As for the two men. Well.

It was easy to see what had gone on in here. The fact that neither man was wearing clothes and that Wyatt was absolutely streaked in come and… was that _oil_ on his legs? So it wasn’t like she was wondering why her husband and her boyfriend were currently naked and post-coital in the kitchen, she was wondering why the kitchen had gotten destroyed in the process.

Flynn and Wyatt looked at each other guiltily. “I… was being a brat and Flynn punished me,” Wyatt said.

Lucy looked from one to the other. “Is everything okay?”

Both men looked startled, eyes going a bit wide, and then nodded vehemently. “I’m just in a—it was a rough day,” Wyatt said.

“He asked to be punished,” Flynn added quickly, like he thought Lucy might think there was some bad BDSM practice going on under her roof.

As if she had any doubt that whatever had been done to Wyatt, he’d asked for. Flynn was conscientious about consent, almost to a fault at times.

Lucy looked from one to the other and back again. She felt like there was something she wasn’t being told—but she also suspected it wasn’t that they didn’t want to tell her, but that they didn’t want to tell each other.

She folded her arms. “Do you two have something you need to work out?”

Wyatt shrugged. Flynn ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay…” Lucy sighed. This was not what she’d wanted to deal with when she got home from Amy’s check-up. “You know that BDSM isn’t a replacement for talking about issues, right? It’s not therapy.”

As much as some of her clients had treated it that way.

“I was in a pissy mood, Flynn worked me through it, honestly, that was all it was,” Wyatt said. “We just got a… a little carried away.”

Lucy glanced over at Flynn. “Do either of you feel you went too far?”

“No!” both men said quickly and genuinely. “It was… really good,” Wyatt added weakly, almost like he was ashamed of liking it that much.

“I worry I got… carried away but I kept checking in,” Flynn said, blushing a bit.

“…are you two ashamed of how much you liked it?” Lucy asked.

Flynn looked over her shoulder while Wyatt went bright red and looked at the floor.

Ahh. Well, Flynn had struggled a bit to accept that he felt so dominant towards Wyatt, after years of feeling submissive towards his romantic partners. And Wyatt was still in his first BDSM relationship and she hadn’t properly punished him ever. He’d never given her reason to.

“All right.” Lucy set her bag down on the counter. “First thing is you're going to clean up yourselves and this kitchen and we’re going to have a normal evening. And then tomorrow, if you want, I’ll punish you both? Would that help you feel better about it?”

Wyatt and Flynn looked at each other, then both nodded.

Lucy let out a breath, finally relaxing. Oh, her poor boys, feeling like they’d messed up. Probably wishing she’d been there to supervise. “All right then, I’ll plan something.”

She cupped each of their cheeks. “But hey. Did you both enjoy it?”

They nodded.

“Then that’s what matters most. Okay? Neither of you feels like a line was crossed for you. It was consensual the whole time. That’s what’s important, okay?”

She kissed them both on the cheek, and then sent them to get washed up.

Then she went and sat down on the couch, putting her feet up.

What. She wasn’t going to clean up the damn kitchen, they’d made that mess.

 

* * *

 

Flynn talked with Lucy privately later, explaining why he’d snapped a little, and why he was ashamed of it.

“What was I supposed to say?” he asked her. “That I was angry because he doesn’t feel the same way? How wrong is that?”

He felt… ashamed, beyond ashamed, of how he’d let his temper fuel his behavior with Wyatt. He had grown up with a father who used his temper as a drive for everything, and he’d promised to never be like that. And yes, Wyatt had enjoyed it and it had all turned out all right. But to snap like that? To want to punish?

It scared him.

He understood the desire to be punished. He wanted that from Lucy, sometimes. Not just a guiding hand but a firm hand, a hand that gave him the consequences he felt he deserved, that was firm enough to take him out of his head when simple guidance and praise wasn’t enough. That wasn’t what worried him and made him want Lucy to punish him now—it was that he’d gone so far off the deep end, and that he’d liked it. That he wanted to do it again, yank Wyatt around like that again, talk to him like that again.

Lucy soothed him. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised.

She was so strong, so patient. He didn’t deserve her.

The next evening, Lucy brought them both into the bedroom. She was wearing one of her corsets, the black one overlaid with lace that she’d been torn on keeping because she’d also gotten the red one.

Flynn’s mouth went dry.

“On the bed,” Lucy instructed. “Both of you.”

Flynn and Wyatt did as they were told. “On your backs,” Lucy continued. “Hands over your heads.”

Flynn could feel the heat of Wyatt next to him, just barely touching Flynn, the bed big enough that they could lie side by side but not big enough to completely separate them.

Lucy brought out two silk ties—and wrapped one around Wyatt’s head, over his eyes.

Oh. Oh _fuck_.

“All good?” Lucy asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very good. You’re both so cooperative today, it’s a pity you have to be punished.” Lucy moved over to Flynn, who closed his eyes obligingly.

The silk wrapped around his eyes and he felt something inside of him start to relax. He was in Lucy’s hands now, trusting himself to her. Sometimes it felt like the most natural state for him—he’d trusted her when she’d walked into the bar in São Paulo, and ever after. Why wouldn’t it extend to everywhere else? Even when he didn’t trust his own head, his own thoughts, he had Lucy, and she quieted them and took him back to center, where he could land and feel grounded.

Flynn could hear Wyatt breathing heavily next to him. Flynn was at the point where this instantly relaxed him but Wyatt was the opposite, getting more and more pent up in anticipation until he was unwounded like a spinning top, while Flynn was unspooled slowly like thread.

“Relax,” Lucy ordered softly. Knowing what she was wearing and not being able to see it, not being able to feel it, was a slowly growing madness inside of him.

And he knew that it was only going to get worse from here.

Flynn felt his arms gently being lifted over his head, his wrists tied. He then felt the bed dipping, heard the hitch of Wyatt’s breath, and knew that Lucy was doing the same to him.

“Now,” Lucy cooed, “we can have some real fun.”

There was a soft, slick noise, and then Wyatt whined, and Flynn automatically strained to try and see—only to be stopped by the blindfold. Lucy was doing something, putting her mouth on Wyatt somewhere, and he wanted to know, wanted to see, he loved watching Wyatt come undone—but clearly he wasn’t allowed to.

He felt Wyatt squirming next to him and could feel his cock getting hard and heavy in response, could feel his blood itching and his heartrate picking up. It was going to be a long night, Flynn could already tell.

“You had a bad attitude, is that right?” Lucy asked. “You feel bad for making Flynn punish you?”

“Y-yes ma’am.”

“Punishments are fun for us.” Flynn heard rustling and then the distinctive _snap_ of the lube being flicked open. “You shouldn’t ever feel bad for making us give them to you. That’s why we wrote about them in our forms. You shouldn’t feel bad for wanting them. Flynn likes it when I punish him, sometimes.”

He felt her hand slide up his chest, nails scraping slightly. “Isn’t that right?” Lucy’s mouth was right by his ear, her lips catching on the shell.

“Yes,” he answered, and he got a soft bite on the ear for it, one that had him jerking in response.

Lucy’s soft, pleased laughter echoed through his entire body as she pulled away. “Flynn here is being punished because he’s ashamed of how dominant he gets with you. He feels he should be punished for how he behaved and, well, I’m not going to deny him.

“So here’s the catch—neither of you should feel bad for wanting something from the other. You communicated well, you both wanted it, you both liked it. You’re not getting punished for what you think you did, you’re getting punished for shaming yourselves.

“If you’re so very determined to shame yourselves for how you want the other one to treat you or be treated, then that’s perfectly fine by me. You get to lie here and not see each other, and not feel each other, not touch each other—you get to just hear how _very_ good I’m making the other one feel. And you get to want them so much you can’t stand it. But you can’t have him. Not tonight. And you’re going to hear the other one come, and hate that you weren’t the one who got to help with it.

“And _next_ time, you’re going to ask for what you want, and do what you want, without shame. Are we clear?”

Flynn’s throat and mouth were dry, his heart pounding, his skin too small and hot, burning, all the way through him from his legs to his lungs to his eyes that still strained uselessly to see what was happening.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, the words as automatic as his loyalty.

“Good boys.” Lucy chuckled darkly.

She did something, Flynn couldn’t tell—and Wyatt moaned.

God _dammit_.

“Lucy—” The beg slipped past his lips before he could stop it and he gritted his teeth.

“Aww, sounds like somebody wants to help you out,” Lucy teased. She did something, something that made a slick noise, and oh, God, Flynn could imagine so many things…

Wyatt moaned again. “He wants to be the one doing this to you. Don’t you wish he was helping out? That extra pair of hands all over you? That second mouth on you? His hand on your neck, his mouth on your jaw? You love when he bites you… just… like… this…”

Lucy must have done it, because Wyatt whined high in the back of his throat. Flynn strained his arms, wanting to touch, _fuck_ he wanted to—wanted to know what was happening—

Wyatt was making those desperate whining little noises in the back of his throat, over and over, and Flynn bit his lip viciously to keep from begging some more, to keep from being too obviously desperate. Not that Lucy didn’t know. She most assuredly did know how crazy this was making him. But he was determined to hold out.

“That’s it,” Lucy cooed. “Doesn’t feel the same without him, does it? You could be getting both of us right now, you could be getting Flynn talking to you and touching you—do you want that, sweetheart? Hmm?”

“Yes,” Wyatt choked out.

Lucy did something that made Wyatt violently jerk, arch off the bed a bit, and Flynn thought his heart was going to leap right out of his throat from how much he wanted.

“Why don’t I give you a little substitute, hmm? Something to help with that?” Flynn heard more rustling. “But let’s let you cool down for a moment.”

“ _Lucy_ —”

“No, no, you don’t like to be out of control. So I’ll let you catch your breath.”

“Lucy—ma’am— _please_ —”

“You made your bed, Wyatt Logan. Now you’re lying in it.”

Jesus fucking _Christ_ Flynn thought he was going to lose his mind.

Lucy’s hands slid up his chest, tweaked his nipples, massaged his shoulders. “Hello, handsome,” she purred. “Look at you. Oh, I wish you could see how desperate you look right now. I love making you look like this, darling.”

She kissed the hollow of his throat, his collarbone, his sternum, down his stomach. Flynn twitched, trying not to push up into the touch, knowing it wouldn’t help and would possibly just make Lucy tease him more. “God, you’re so trusting. You know you deserve this, don’t you darling? You know this is what you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy bit the skin just above his hip. “Say it.”

“I need this.” Fuck, he did, he really did.

“Good boy.” Lucy licked at the spot she’d bitten, and then without any warning, she was sinking her mouth down around his cock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Flynn swore, the curse flying out of him before he could stop himself.

Lucy chuckled, the sensation vibrating down his cock. _Sranje_. She resumed sliding up and down on him, her hands moving to his thighs and pushing them open.

Flynn knew what was going to happen, knew _her_ , and fuck he wished he could see. He could hear Wyatt whimpering, as if he couldn’t keep quiet even when he wasn’t being touched, as if hearing Flynn’s pleasure made him that much more desperate—and wasn’t that an image, Wyatt horny and hot just from hearing Lucy with Flynn—

Lucy slid her fingers into him, stretching him out and giving him that edge of a burn that she knew he liked, same as her. He hitched his hips towards them, his breathing harsh, sweat sliding down his body.

“Oh my God,” Wyatt blurted out. “Fuck, I can—Lucy, Lucy please, please can I help touch him please I want to touch—can I just see I want to see him so badly please, _please_ ma’am please—”

Lucy pulled her mouth off Flynn’s cock and he whined instinctively. She lightly pinched his thigh in response. “No. This is your punishment. But by all means, keep begging. I want Flynn to hear it.”

Fucking fuck _fuck_ —

Wyatt whimpered and Flynn thought he had genuinely just lost a piece of his mind.

“Now, which one of you should be fucked first,” Lucy mused. She curled her fingers, hitting Flynn’s prostate, and he groaned, fire shooting through him and melting his spine. God that felt good that felt so good, it’d been so long since Lucy had fucked him and he wanted her, wanted her so badly, wanted her inside him and dominating him and telling him when he was allowed to come.

“I know,” Lucy decided. She hit his prostate again and Flynn started shoving his hips down onto her helplessly, chasing more of that high, the pressure in his cock and his chest so tight it was like a coil of lava. “Wyatt’s so much more impatient than you, isn’t he Garcia? He can go last. And you can listen to him beg the whole time—I’m sure that’ll help you along, hearing how desperate he is. If only you could help take care of him.”

Flynn couldn’t see her, but he knew that Lucy was giving one of her nonchalant shrugs. “Ah, well, there’s always next time.”

Wyatt started tugging on the restraints—Flynn could feel the bed moving—and he knew that Wyatt was squirming. “Ma’am, Lucy, please—”

“Oh, no, don’t you worry sweetheart. We have to keep you nice and loose like a good toy for me.”

He felt the bed dip and shift as Lucy moved, and then Wyatt made a glorious choking sound. “There. That will keep you open for me.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, she’d put the plug in him. Flynn would have given just about anything to see Wyatt’s face in that moment, his flushed chest, his too-bright eyes.

“And since Garcia can’t choke you…”

“Are you putting that _fucking_ collar on,” Flynn growled, unable to stop himself.

Lucy laughed and he knew he’d played directly into her hands. “Why don’t you tell him how it feels, pet?”

“’S good,” Wyatt slurred. “Not as—not as good as you, I promise, I want—”

“Yes, why don’t you go ahead and tell Garcia all that you want from him.” Flynn felt Lucy moving back over to him, heard her moving around, heard the clink and _snick_ of the strap on as she put it on herself and adjusted it. “You still good, darling?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lucy slowly nudged herself in, just an inch. Flynn whined. “You don’t get fucked by me until Wyatt starts talking.”

They might not bring a lot of pain into their bedroom play, but Lucy found ways to be a sadist anyhow.

Wyatt let out a stream of swearing under his breath, then cleared his throat. “I want—I want you to fuck me, Lucy, and then I want—I want Garcia to fuck me next, I want you both, I want to feel used that way—when I do something wrong, I want to be—reminded I’m just good for being used by you, I want him to—to grab my hair and fuck my mouth like he did yesterday, I want him to make me come exactly how you want me to and not how I want to, I want—”

Flynn thought that if he could break these restraints, he would, disobedient though it might be. Hearing Wyatt actively beg for what he wanted, describing it, asking for exactly what Flynn still felt shame about wanting to do, had him feeling like he was about to fly off the bed, a firework that wasn’t allowed to go off despite the fuse being lit.

Lucy slid even more into him, and then began to thrust, slow and shallow at first but picking up speed the more Wyatt begged and squirmed, and Flynn realized a few minutes in that Wyatt was trying to shove himself further onto the plug for something, anything, any kind of stimulation he could get.

_Jesus._

Lucy was ruthless, her mouth everywhere on his chest, her hands squeezing his thighs, his hips, her teeth marking him up in what he knew would be a trail of pink-purple-blue bruises. With his eyes covered everything was that much more intense and he gave himself over to the sounds of Wyatt, of the slick-slap of Lucy fucking him, of his own harsh breath and garbled groans. Lucy made him see stars again and again, the only thing he really could see with this blindfold on, until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lucy, ma’am, please,” he said, finally giving in and speaking. “I’m going to—”

“Whenever you want,” Lucy allowed, magnanimous in her complete control over them. “Go right ahead. Let Wyatt hear you. I bet he wishes that was inside him, I bet he wishes it was all over his chest, all over his face, going down his throat—”

Oh fucking hell, she really was merciless, and Flynn came with so many images crammed up in his head that they all blurred like water thrown on a chalk drawing, bleeding out of him and leaving him whimpering and raw.

Lucy slid out of him at once, leaving him feeling used and empty, and then he heard what sounded like—if he had to guess—the strap-on being wiped off.

“Oh, if only he could see you,” she crooned. Wyatt whimpered pathetically. “Poor sweet pet, begging for what you can’t have. You can have it, you’re allowed to have it, so let’s stop being ashamed of it, hmm? Now would you like me to fuck you? Have you learned your lesson? Because if you haven’t, I can leave you both here. Make Garcia listen to you try and get off like this, even when it doesn’t work, helpless to give you what you need…”

“N-no, no, I learned, ma’am, I promise I learned.”

Lucy hummed. “Lucky for you, I think you have. All right then. Let’s hear a _thank you mistress_.”

“Thank you, mistress.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“…for punishing me?”

“Well, that works. How about, _thank you for letting me come, mistress_.”

“Thank you for letting me come, mistress.”

“Let’s hear one from Garcia, too.”

Flynn swallowed, or tried to. His mouth was like sandpaper. “Thank you for punishing me, mistress. Thank you for letting me come.”

“Now, was that so hard?” Lucy pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. Flynn turned his head, chasing her mouth, and Lucy laughed and indulged him with another kiss, this one lingering on his lips long after she pulled away.

There were more noises, noises that Flynn could guess at but didn’t know for certain—God he’d rip this blindfold off if he could—and then Wyatt made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Fuck, _fuck_ , those little noises that Wyatt made that Flynn usually delighted in were now the ultimate torture. He wanted to see, he wanted to know, he wanted to stop guessing and relying on imagination—

“Tell him,” Lucy ordered. She sounded breathless and Flynn wondered if she was touching herself, and how, if she had a vibrator on, what was happening with her, if she was still wearing the corset fuck _fuck_ he wanted to see her too— “Tell him like he told you, Garcia, tell him what you’re thinking.”

“I want to fuck you,” Flynn blurted out without a second thought. He’d come but God if he’d been twenty years younger he would’ve been hard and ready to go again. “I want to rip that collar off you and put my hand around your throat instead, I want to fuck you until you lose your voice from screaming, I want to hold you down while Lucy fucks you—get rough with you and turn you inside out and then get gentle and soft and—fuck—”

Wyatt was whining desperately, thrashing, and Flynn thought he heard him clawing at his restraints—and then Wyatt stiffened and gasped like he was out of oxygen, and Lucy soothed, “good boy, very good.”

They had to stay tied up while Lucy cleaned them off, but then he was being kissed, slowly, surely, deeply.

He gave himself over to it, gave himself over to Lucy, relaxed on a bone-deep level. Her hands slowly worked the blindfold off, but kept kissing him as she undid his wrists.

At last she pulled away, and he watched as she undid Wyatt’s collar, his blindfold, his wrists, all while kissing him.

When she pulled back Flynn moved, pulling Wyatt into him, cupping his face and kissing him over and over and over, soaking him up, pressing into him, thinking he might never stop.

And Wyatt—Wyatt clung to him, like he never wanted Flynn to stop.

Lucy looked very pleased with herself, and waited until they’d settled before sliding in between them. “You have no idea how hot you two were,” she cooed, petting them both. “Now someone help me out of this damn corset.”

Flynn laughed and helped her—feeling better about the whole thing.

But there was still the underlying issue, the reason he’d lost control in the first place.

Wyatt not loving them.

And that—that couldn’t be solved with a round of sex.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was, unsurprisingly perhaps, out of underwear.

Dammit. He’d meant to do laundry, at some point… but he’d just forgotten. He’d felt bad about not helping out around the house at all, so he’d started kind of picking up domestic chores here and there. It wasn’t like Flynn and Lucy paid the mortgage—Mason had bought the house for them outright as a wedding gift—but still. Wyatt wanted to do his part. So he did the laundry and vacuumed, that kind of thing.

But now he was out of underwear because someone, or two someones, decided that getting him hard and fucking him sideways was the best way to spend every afternoon. Not that they actually bothered to spend time doing anything else with him lately. Flynn had been outright avoiding him the last few days while Lucy flitted back and forth like a trapped moth, unsure of what to do.

Maybe he should’ve been honest when Lucy had found them in the kitchen and asked what was wrong. Maybe he should’ve come clean. But how could he do that? How could he even possibly explain—he didn’t want their pity. He didn’t want a fight. And how entitled, how rude and thoughtless, would it be for him to say, _I’d hoped that you would love me?_ Or, _I knew you two didn’t love me but I put myself in this position anyway?_

How could that do anything but make them feel guilty, like they’d taken advantage of him?

Wyatt shoved his drawer closed. Hmm. He and Flynn were similar enough in size, surely he could borrow a pair…

He opened Flynn’s underwear drawer and looked through the options. He didn’t want to take anything too nice, just a lazy Sunday pair that Flynn wouldn’t mind losing for a few days until Wyatt got the laundry done—

There was a small box in the drawer, hidden underneath a few pairs of silk briefs.

A small, black velvet box.

Too small to be a bracelet or necklace. Maybe a pair of earrings for Lucy? It wasn’t their anniversary or anything but… Flynn was the kind of guy who would do random lovely things for people, like bringing wine and flowers home for Lucy on a random Tuesday just because.

Curiosity burned inside of him. If it was jewelry for Lucy, surely Flynn would’ve told Wyatt, right? He tended to tell Wyatt about these things.

Sneaking a glance over his shoulder, just in case this was the moment that Lucy or Flynn decided to come home early, Wyatt slid his hand into the drawer and pulled out the box, opening it.

His legs went numb and he somehow found himself sitting on the floor.

It was a ring.

A man’s ring, clearly, it was too big to fit Lucy’s finger. A simple band, dark, with a design etched on top—a triangular Celtic knot.

The same knot design that he’d pointed out to Lucy in the shop a couple of weeks ago.

Wyatt’s fingers trembled as he picked up the ring, tilting it, letting it catch the light.

There were words carved on the inside.

His heartrate picked up, beat a frantic staccato inside his chest as he read them: _so I love you because I know no other way_.

He knew that—knew it because the rest of the poem had been read aloud at Lucy and Flynn’s wedding. It was _Love Sonnet XVII_ by Pablo Neruda. Lucy and Flynn each had a line from the poem on the inside of their rings. The two lines, in fact, that proceeded the line on the inside of this ring.

 _I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,_ read Flynn’s.

 _I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,_ read Lucy’s.

Each line a message to the other. Wyatt had always thought each line very fitting in how they had each come to love each other, and how they continued to love each other to this day.

And they’d gotten a ring—a man’s ring, with the Celtic knot, a three-angled one, with the next line from the poem—they—they had it in the drawer, as if—but then—

Wyatt shoved the ring back into the box, put the box back in the drawer, and called Jess.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I found a ring in Flynn’s underwear drawer.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. So long, in fact, that Wyatt started to worry that Jess had hung up the phone.

But at last she said,

“I’m guessing this is a ring of the wedding variety.”

“I’m… I’m pretty sure.” Wyatt felt lightheaded.

Jess sighed. “Wyatt, could you maybe, just possibly, now consider the possibility that they do in fact have feelings for you? Since the intimate and constant sex and the moving in together and the constant touching you in public weren’t all enough clues for you?”

“But—how—”

“Take deep breaths, Wyatt.”

Wyatt tried, he really did, and managed to suck in a few gulps. His heartrate slowed down, but his stomach stayed in a tight knot that he couldn’t even begin to untangle.

“I thought…” He took another deep breath. “Jess, what do I do with this?”

“Well, do you love them?”

“Fuck yes.” The words slipped out of him on a breath, hushed and trembling. “I’ve loved them for… since they started getting together at the club. I—I fell for Flynn then and I never… I never stopped loving Lucy.”

“Then tell them that, for the love of God, Wyatt. They bought a ring!”

“Maybe they changed their minds, maybe—”

“No. No, you are not doing this. This is not happening. You are going to tell them that you love them.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will.” Jess’s voice was firm and stubborn and brooked no argument. Wyatt knew she’d do it, too. Jess was a woman of her word.

Fuck.

“Is that a deal?” Jess asked, merciless. “Will you tell them?”

Wyatt swallowed. “I…”

“Because I’ll take one for the team that way. I will get them a nice cocktail each and ply them with free appetizers and I will spill the beans.”

“Okay, okay, I will tell them!”

“Good.” Jess’s voice gentled. “You have nothing to lose, Wyatt. What could possibly be worse than how you feel now? Just rip the band aid off, for crying out loud. You already thought they didn’t love you back, right? So what happens if you tell them and you’re right and they don’t love you? You get confirmation and you can move on with your life, you can cut the cord.”

“And they’ll know, and they’ll pity me, and I’ll be shoving my feelings onto them—”

“No.” Jess’s voice got firm again. “You telling Lucy you loved her when Rufus died, _that_ was forcing your feelings. You’re allowed to express how you feel, Wyatt. You’re allowed to communicate. How else are you supposed to have a healthy relationship? Christ, I get why you’re worried about that, but clearly it’s eating you up inside and you’re not taking advantage of your best friend dying or anything. You’re telling them so that they can make an informed decision on things. Especially with the babies coming.

“Maybe they haven’t given it to you because they’ve come to think _you_ want casual, huh, did you think of that? With your keeping them at arm’s length and watching your words and looking for a damn apartment, Wyatt, didn’t you think that maybe you’re sending them the wrong message?”

“They started to pull away first—”

“And they might think it was the other way around! But you don’t know and you can’t know unless you talk to them! So stop dicking around, tell them you love them, and get it all over with. Or I will do it for you.”

Jess hung up.


	18. Chapter 18

Wyatt was out that night working a case—a teen had run away from home after her parents had been hostile about her coming out as trans, and now her parents wanted their daughter back. Wyatt hadn’t wanted to take it, worried the parents were lying to him about their sincerity in wanting to apologize and do better. He’d seen far too many abusive people try to use his services as a P.I. to find people who, rightfully, didn’t want to be found.

Then he’d learned, after hearing them talk about their daughter for an hour, that her birth name had been _James_.

So he’d taken the case.

It meant a few late nights without Lucy and Flynn, which normally Lucy would have been privately sad about, but given all that had been going on, maybe some space for everyone to clear their heads was needed.

She took the opportunity that night to sit down at the island and watch Flynn make dinner. “Garcia?”

“Hmm?” Flynn was frying something and it smelled delicious.

“We need to talk about Wyatt.”

Flynn’s spatula went clattering against the side of the pan as he dropped it and hastily picked it back up again. “I don’t see what there is to talk about.”

Lucy was starting to see why it had taken the two of them so long to get together romantically. “I think that we should tell him what we were planning.”

“Why? If he’s planning on moving out… then he’s made his stance clear.” Flynn jabbed at the food with the spatula.

“He hasn’t told us he’s moving out.”

“Yet.”

“We’ve talked about communication though, a lot about it. About being honest and open.” Lucy paused. “I meant what I said the other day, darling. I know we got a bit off track with everything else but, sex isn’t a substitute for communication or therapy. Even the sort of sex that we have. And I can’t help but wonder… if maybe some wires got crossed along the way.”

Flynn turned off the stove, grabbing a couple of plates. “I don’t see how we could be any clearer. We asked him to move in with us, he’s helping us with the nursery for Christ’s sake…”

“But I was trying to think, and darling… did we ever actually say that we loved him?”

Flynn paused at that, hand in the air with a plate. “He hasn’t said it to us.”

“Yes, well, the last time he did that it went rather poorly, so I think Wyatt’s a bit justified in waiting until the other person says it first this time around.”

“He never said it so…” Flynn looked like he was finally starting to put two and two together. “I thought. I thought the way—it was obvious, wasn’t it? I don’t—I don’t just sleep with anyone, he knows this, I don’t just let anyone into my _life_ —and I sure as hell wouldn’t let just anyone be with you.”

“As if you could stop me,” Lucy teased.

Flynn put the food on the two plates and brought them over, sitting down next to Lucy.

“It was obvious,” Lucy said quietly. “Or, I think it was. But apparently you were obviously in love with me the whole time at the club, and I didn’t know. I didn’t trust it. My self-esteem was in the toilet, it was underground, and I couldn’t trust that you truly, actually… I was looking for any excuse, any at all, to say that you didn’t care for me. Wyatt messed up and you know he carries that with him. We should’ve… we failed him, we should’ve known that, we should have told him. Sat him down and explained.”

Flynn rubbed at his face. “I… but what if we’re wrong? What if we tell him and he doesn’t feel the same way and…”

Lucy took her husband’s hand. Her darling, devoted, terrified of being hurt husband. “How could it be any worse than how we’re feeling right now?”

Flynn squeezed her hand tightly, then brought it up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “ _Volim te_ ,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, but what was that for?”

Flynn shrugged. “You’re the bravest woman I know. Far braver than I am.”

“We’re talking about proposing to our boyfriend, not storming a castle.”

“Trust me, in some ways, going to war was easier than asking Lorena on our first date,” Flynn replied. “You want honesty and truth, Lucy. No matter how much it costs you. You want answers, and you want to communicate. And that’s far more than most people want or are capable of reaching for.”

Lucy felt her face heating up.

If nothing else, she had this wonderful man by her side, supporting her. And she wouldn’t trade him for anything.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was pretty well-known at the various homeless centers in the area by now, after all the times he’d stopped by looking for missing relatives and loved ones. The LGBT+ Youth Center had been wary of him at first, understandably, but now he was trusted and was able to learn that Rebecca, the missing girl, had checked in a couple days ago.

Facilitating a conversation between her and her parents wasn’t easy, but worth it when it ended in tears and hugging.

Not all of the stories ended as well as that one. Usually, Wyatt found himself helping a battered spouse or significant other or kid get a ticket out of state.

He was exhausted by the time he got home—and that was how he thought of it in his mind now, not Lucy and Flynn’s, but _home_ —but he knew he had to do this.

Jess was not the kind of person who made idle threats.

He might fuck it up along the way, but he wanted to be the person to tell Lucy and Flynn. They had a right to hear it from him, and he had the right to tell them how he felt. He decided that. Not anyone else.

To his surprise, the two of them were sitting on the couch, wide awake. Lucy was scrolling through something on her phone and Flynn was reading a book.

“Hey,” Wyatt said, closing the front door and taking off his jacket and shoes. “Thought you two would be in bed.”

“We wanted to wait up for you,” Lucy replied. “Come and sit with us.”

Wyatt walked over and Flynn tugged him down so that Wyatt was sandwiched between them. “I have…” He took a deep breath. “I have something I need to tell you two. And I’m—I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I didn’t—I should’ve told you a long time ago but I was scared, and I didn’t know how, but… you deserve to know. You shouldn’t be in the dark anymore.”

He turned around and sat on the edge of the coffee table, so that he could look both of them in the eye. “I’m—I want to—I—” Deep breaths, Logan. “I love you.”

Lucy and Flynn stared at him, Flynn’s eyebrows shooting up, Lucy biting her lip.

“I’m in love with both of you. I’ve been… fuck, for years, I don’t even know. When you two were still in the club, doing that whole sting operation, I—yeah.”

“This whole time?” Lucy whispered.

Wyatt nodded, his throat tight and thick. “I’m—I’m sorry, I know you don’t—I should’ve said when you first offered but I wanted—I was so scared you’d change your minds if—and I know it was stupid but I wanted even just a little bit of you…”

He could feel his eyes getting hot and itchy and he had to stop, his voice failing him.

Lucy leaned forward at once, taking his hands. “Sweetheart. Honey. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“You kept asking me to spend more time with Joy alone, you were getting ready for the twins, I figured… you wouldn’t want me around…”

“We didn’t—we’re not Joy’s parents, as much as we love her,” Lucy said. “You and Jess are. We realized we might be overstepping our bounds and we wanted to be careful. That’s all. And we—we wanted—Wyatt. Wyatt we love you. We do, we love you so much, and we thought—we thought you had to know.”

Wyatt stared at her. They—they loved? Him?

But he didn’t deserve them.

Lucy made a noise of distress and pulled him to her so that he was on the couch again. She seated herself sideways in his lap, cupping his face in her hands. “Wyatt. I love you.”

Wyatt clung to her tightly, not trusting himself to speak. He’d waited to hear those words for five years.

Lucy guided his face, tucking it into her neck, her fingers gently petting through the hair at the back of his head. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve been pining all this time?”

Wyatt nodded.

“Garcia… could you…”

“Yup.”

Wyatt heard Flynn get up from the couch as Lucy continued to pet him. “I can’t say that we loved you all that time, Wyatt. I can’t lie to you about that. We needed time to… to get used to you again, to forgive you. But we did fall in love with you, and we thought when we asked you to be with us and move in with us that you understood—but that was our fault. We should have been clearer.”

Flynn returned, sitting on the couch. “Wyatt.”

Wyatt turned—and saw the box in Flynn’s hand.

“I found that,” he blurted out.

Both his partners stared at him.

“I was out of underwear.” He could feel his face heating up. “I went to get one of Flynn’s—and I—so I panicked and I called Jess and she said I had to tell you how I felt, and—but you two, and the babies, and, I couldn’t—”

Flynn reached out, cupping Wyatt’s face. “ _Štene_. I—I’ve been informed I was a bit of an idiot. But. I love you. And so does Lucy. And we want—we want that to be permanent. If you’ll have us.”

 _If_ he’d have them? Wyatt let out a burst of hysterical laughter. “Yes, I mean—yes, if you’re sure, if you really want—yes, of course, _yes_.”

Flynn kissed him, stealing the rest of Wyatt’s babbled words from his tongue, and then the ring was being slid onto his finger by one of them, he couldn’t tell which, and he was being kissed and kissed and kissed and _kissed_.

 

* * *

 

Flynn and Lucy had agreed that they needed to get all of the talking out of the way and that they couldn’t be distracted by sex.

But once all the talking was out of the way…

Flynn kissed Wyatt all the way up the stairs, playful, laughing, feeling truly lighthearted for the first time in weeks. Wyatt was clinging to him, to both of them, like he’d never let them go—which was more than all right by Flynn’s standards.

Lucy and Wyatt collapsed onto the bed laughing, trying to undo each other’s clothes but failing miserably because they kept being distracted by kissing and trying to talk over each other, explaining, laughing over how goddamn _stupid_ they’d all been.

Flynn just got on his knees and spread Wyatt’s legs open.

Wyatt made a strangled noise and propped himself up on his elbows, staring as Flynn winked and undid his jeans. “Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling,” Flynn quipped.

He didn’t give Wyatt a chance to respond—he just swallowed him down.

Wyatt groaned, one hand clawing through Flynn’s hair as the other, presumably, was busy with Lucy.

For once, there were no clear instructions from Lucy, no dictating how this would go. This wasn’t going to be vanilla—how could it be when it was the three of them—but this wasn’t a BDSM scene, strictly.

It was the three of them lost in each other and celebrating, playing, and Flynn loved that just as much as anything else they did together.

He lost himself in listening to Wyatt’s noises, feeling Wyatt’s thighs tense and shift underneath his hands, his cock jerking hot and heavy in Flynn’s mouth, the salty taste exploding on his tongue as Wyatt started to leak and get desperate.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lucy chanted, pulling Flynn away from Wyatt. He slid off with a lewd _pop_.

Lucy scrambled to get the box of toys and grabbed the vibrating cock ring.

Ah, it seemed she really wanted to drive one or both of them crazy.

Lucy crawled back across the bed to Wyatt and dangled the toy in front of him. “Would you like this? Hmm? Is this what you want?”

Wyatt nodded, struggling to swallow.

“So greedy,” Lucy said, her words chastising but her tone playful. “Such an eager little plaything. I think I will let you have it.” A smirk spread across her face. “…but not just yet.”

“Lucy…”

“Ah-ah, you have to earn it.” Lucy winked at him, then leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

Flynn had a feeling this was going to turn out very badly (very wonderfully) for him.

When Lucy pulled away, Wyatt didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Flynn and yanked him up, pressing him down onto the mattress and kissing him.

Flynn wasn’t going to let that stand. He yanked at Wyatt’s remaining clothes, and let Wyatt do the same to him, kissing him and never letting him more than an inch away.

He was so lost in what Wyatt was doing, letting Wyatt get the upper hand for a moment and then snatching it back again, that he didn’t notice was Lucy was doing until it was too late.

When her mouth was licking up his thighs.

Flynn growled, and Lucy scraped her teeth over his thigh in response, before moving up to tease at his entrance.

Fuck, she was going to kill him.

Wyatt laughed into Flynn’s mouth, kissing him again, slick and messy, and Flynn grabbed at his throat in response, squeezing, keeping Wyatt in place to fuck his tongue in and out of Wyatt’s mouth. Wyatt clawed at him, sucking on his tongue, and Flynn bit Wyatt’s lip in response.

Lucy had plenty of practice with this, especially with Flynn’s body, five years now of finding out exactly how he liked it, and he could feel his spine melting into the bed inch by inch as she rimmed him. If she’d blown him—that would’ve been its own kind of torture, yes, but a kind of move he would’ve expected. This, though, was just rare enough for her to do that he wasn’t prepared in the slightest, and all he could do was shake and moan as he felt every piece of him turning into jelly.

Wyatt’s kisses turned affectionate, kissing him and running his hands over Flynn’s chest, through Flynn’s hair, as Flynn clung to him. Wyatt was clearly gleeful that he got to be the one to help Lucy make Flynn fall apart, when it was usually the other way around, and Flynn was inclined to let him have this victory for now. Because he could feel the ring on Wyatt’s finger whenever he touched Flynn, and that—that did just as much to him as Lucy’s mouth was.

“You’re ours,” Flynn whispered, catching Wyatt’s bottom lip between his teeth. “ _Volim te_.”

“Yours,” Wyatt agreed, promised. He sounded breathless when he said it, like he almost couldn’t believe he was allowed to let it out. “Been yours for years.”

Lucy twisted her tongue and let her teeth scrape along the rim and Flynn groaned, feeling like he’d been plugged into a goddamn light socket. “ _Draga_ , Lucy, please…”

“I knew you’d get there eventually,” she teased him, and then she was wrapping her lips around the head of his cock and Flynn lost it.

“Very good,” she purred, crawling up to him as Flynn caught his breath. Fuck, her mouth was swollen from him, her lips bright red, and he yanked her in to kiss her. Lucy hummed happily, as Wyatt whined.

“Oh, yes, pet, don’t you worry.” Lucy lightly pressed her hand to Wyatt’s sternum and he fell back onto the bed. She yanked her dress off. “You did as you were told.”

She slid the ring onto Wyatt and then climbed onto him, straddling him. “Garcia…”

Flynn didn’t have to be told twice. He slid up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, his other hand moving between her legs. Jesus Christ, she was already soaking wet, and his fingers sank right in. Lucy gave a small moan as he twisted his fingers in and out, his thumb finding her clit.

“Does it really make you that wet?” he whispered in her ear. “Getting me off, having me at your mercy, being so depraved?”

He knew that it did, but he also knew that she loved hearing him say things like that.

They were all suckers for talking. Ironic, given how spectacularly they’d failed at talking about their feelings this whole time.

He slid his fingers out of her and gripped Wyatt’s cock, helping Lucy to settle onto him—and then flipped the ring on.

Lucy all but sagged in Flynn’s arms and Wyatt yelped, then moaned, both of them shuddering. Flynn could feel Wyatt instinctively shoving himself up into Lucy, and Lucy clawed at Flynn’s arms, gasping, chanting for more, more, _more_. Wyatt kept swearing violently, his thrusts uncoordinated and messy, but that hardly mattered, not when Lucy got to feel full and stuffed and had those vibrations pressing right up against her clit.

Flynn coaxed them both through it, petting Wyatt and holding Lucy, as they shook like leaves in a hurricane, until they were so messy and falling apart, their noises started to take on an edge of overstimulation.

He reached down between them, pulling Lucy gently off of Wyatt and turning off the ring.

Lucy sank onto the bed, immediately grabbing Wyatt’s left hand and kissing it, the back of it, his inner wrist, his palm, and finally his knuckle where the ring sat.

Flynn crawled up, to lie on Wyatt’s other side, draping his arm over both of his loves. “So you’ll be with us?” he asked. “Raise our kids with us?”

Wyatt nodded. “If you really want me,” he whispered.

“We want you,” Lucy promised. She kissed his jaw. “Forever.”

Flynn wrapped himself around Wyatt, his arm reaching across to Lucy, who burrowed into Wyatt’s other side, resting her head on his shoulder.

In a few moments they’d get up and get into the shower, spraying each other with water, laughing, kissing, and Wyatt would cry a little with relief and Flynn would kiss the tears away and Lucy would kiss all over both of their chests and hog all the hot water and it would be wonderful and the first day of the rest of their lives.

But first—first, they just held each other, and they breathed together.

And Flynn was so goddamn happy he could burst.


	19. Chapter 19

Lucy jumped up as another nurse walked by. Flynn squeezed her hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, _moja ljubav_ ,” he promised her.

“You don’t know that,” Lucy replied, her voice high-pitched, reedy.

Amy had gone into labor a week early, and by the time the three of them had gotten to the hospital, she was already in the room with Jess and the doctors had felt it best they not interrupt anything bringing Lucy in. She’d promised she’d be there, she’d promised she’d hold her sister’s hand…

Wyatt came back with some coffee, then looked at Lucy. “Uh… should you really be having caffeine?”

“No,” Flynn said.

“I’m fi—”

“Lucy Preston?” a nurse called.

Lucy jumped up, her heart pounding. Oh, God, something had gone wrong, Amy was dying, Amy—

The nurse smiled. “You’ve got a very tired sister and two healthy babies who’d like to see you.”

Lucy flew down the hallway.

Amy lay in the bed, tired but smiling, with Jess sitting there and looking white as a sheet. “Someone was worried,” Wyatt commented.

“Shut up,” Jess grumbled, kissing Amy’s hand. “And bring us food, Amy’s starving.”

Wyatt saluted and went to get food, like a puppy that had found its purpose in fetching and was happy to be busy fulfilling that purpose.

Lucy sat on the bed, taking her sister’s other hand. “How are you? Amy? Honey?”

“I’m fine,” Amy protested. “Just tired.”

“Lucy,” Flynn said quietly.

She turned—and felt all of the breath leave her.

Flynn had a small bundle in his arms, and a nurse was standing nearby holding another, ready to pass it on to Lucy.

Lucy opened her arms, her hands, her heart, her whole body shaking, and the baby—her baby, _her baby_ —was laid gently in her grasp.

“That’s the girl,” the nurse said quietly.

Lucy had to blink back sudden tears. “Hello, Maria,” she whispered.

They’d picked out names already, ages ago.

Maria blinked up at her with blue eyes—most babies had blue eyes to start out with—and then gave a massive yawn.

Lucy felt her heart flying out and lodging inside this tiny creature, never to be returned.

Flynn walked over. “Meet Ethan,” he whispered, his voice thick. “Meet our son.”

Their _son_.

Unlike his sister, Ethan was wide awake, starting to sniffle. Flynn accepted a bottle of formula from the nurse and started feeding him.

Ethan quieted at once, one of his hands coming up to wrap around Flynn’s finger, and Lucy was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would die, kill, burn the world to the ground for these babies. Her babies.

The door opened and Wyatt walked in, carrying food. “Okay, Mama Bear, move over,” he said to Jess, helping give the food to her and Amy.

Lucy noticed him carefully avoiding looking at them, at the babies. “Wyatt,” she murmured. “Come here.”

Wyatt turned, and she saw his eyes go tentative and bright. She gestured for him to come, and he followed, sitting down next to her.

“Meet your daddy,” Lucy whispered to Maria.

Wyatt’s head shot up to look her in the eye. “Are—are you—”

“You live with us, you’re spending the rest of your life with us, what did you think you would be?”

“…Uncle Wyatt?”

Lucy laughed softly. “No, sweetheart. They’re yours, too.”

She felt Flynn pressing in close on her other side, as Wyatt rested his head on her shoulder. Her boys and her babies, all together and safe, as Jess helped Amy to eat. Her family, safe, together.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt bounced Maria on his knee. She was definitely the more energetic of the two, a real firecracker—just like her parents if you asked Wyatt—and needed a lot of stimulation.

“Daaaaaddy,” Joy whined, laying her head on his knee. “When’s it gonna start?”

“In a minute, ladybug,” Wyatt replied.

“But Aunt Lucy and Uncle Flynn are _already_ married.”

“I know, but they love each other very much and want to say all over again how much they like being married.”

Joy made a scathing noise. She had been promised cake and was now having to wear a pretty dress and sit and be quiet and was feeling quite deceived.

Jiya walked by, holding Ethan, who was napping—Ethan was nice and quiet, always watching the world with his mother’s dark eyes. The twins were a year old now, and definitely a handful. Joy adored them, though, and had accepted with ease that they were her siblings, just like she’d accepted that her dad now had a husband and a wife.

“Kid’s gonna grow up with three moms and two dads,” Jess had said. “She’s so spoiled, what have we done, oh my God.”

“Do you need me to take him?” Wyatt asked Jiya.

Jiya shook her head. “Nah, it’s a good kid, aren’t you Ethan?”

When Wyatt had found out that Ethan’s middle name was Logan (Maria’s was Carol because, well, complicated relationship aside, Lucy still did love her mother) he’d burst into tears, alarming several nurses nearby.

Ethan, being asleep, did not respond to Jiya, who just grinned. “Rufus and I were kind of thinking about it, but I think this little asshole’s convinced me. We want to start looking into adoption options.”

“That’s great.”

“Also if we don’t I think Rufus’s mom is going to kill us. The grandkid hints have been getting awful lately.”

“Just tell her that Kevin will give her grandkids. Sacred duty of older siblings, you gotta put the pressure on the younger ones.”

“Says the only child.”

“I can’t believe they didn’t name a kid after me,” Stacy huffed in mock offense, coming up and standing a respectful distance away from both babies.

Stacy was not a baby person and was happy to spoil the kids rotten with gifts, but wasn’t really into holding them or playing with them. Wyatt, Lucy, and Flynn didn’t mind. Stacy loved the kids in her own way and she was great with Joy. “Just get them potty trained and talking and not drooling everywhere,” Stacy had said, “and I’ll babysit whenever you want.”

Fair enough, if you asked Wyatt.

“We’ll name the next one after you,” Wyatt promised.

“There’s not going to be a next one, Lucy told me.”

“Exactly.” He grinned at her.

Stacy flipped him off, covering it with one hand from the side so that Joy couldn’t see.

“All right, everyone, sit down, you rabble,” Mason said, walking up.

“You should’ve been a wedding planner,” Wyatt joked.

“Don’t push your luck, Logan,” Mason replied.

Michelle, who had been talking with Rufus and Jess, got up to the front. She’d become an ordained minister years ago to start marrying gay friends when their churches wouldn’t, and Lucy and Flynn had asked her to please preside over today, even though it was a very informal affair.

Personally, Wyatt was surprised that Flynn didn’t want a priest there like they’d had for their actual wedding, but maybe they’d felt it unnecessary since this was just a vow renewal? Flynn didn’t go to church regularly, although sometimes he’d come home late, smelling distinctively of incense, and would be quiet all evening. Wyatt’s own relationship with religion was more of a “sure, whatever,” type deal, but he knew Flynn wanted to have faith. Wanted to be the kind of person to whom belief came easily.

Everyone took their seats, and Denise helpfully took Maria from him while Amy lured Joy away with the promise of a good knock-knock joke. They all settled down, and then Flynn and Lucy walked up together.

They hadn’t wanted to do the whole walking down the aisle bit that they’d done the first time around. “I don’t want this to be about me making a grand entrance,” Lucy had said. “I just want to hold Flynn’s and say I love him.”

Wyatt had to admit, though, his throat got tight upon seeing them. Lucy was wearing a boho-style dress that came down to just over her knees, with long sleeves and geometric lace patterns, her hair loose and curling around her shoulders, held back only by, of all things, a flower crown that Joy had woven for her. It hadn't been Lucy's original intention but upon seeing the dress Joy had decided Aunt Lucy _needed_ a crown so she looked like a proper fairy (Wyatt didn't know when his daughter had decided Lucy was a fairy but oh well) and Lucy had obliged her. Wyatt had to agree, she did look almost like a fairy emerging from the woods. Flynn had said she looked a flower child or like she'd stepped out of a free love festival in the seventies. Lucy had just laughed and said either worked.

“Mama!” Maria yelled, making grabby hands.

Lucy laughed, then playfully shushed her, putting her finger over her lips.

Maria imitated her. Maria had Flynn wrapped around her pinky finger and she adored him to the ends of the earth, but Lucy had the surprising ability to get both kids to listen to her.

Then again, given how Flynn and Wyatt always listened to her, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.

Flynn himself was wearing a dark gray suit with a white tie, which, Wyatt knew, had been the subject of much debate.

Lucy had told him that he was wearing a color other than dark red or navy for once, and she was perfectly willing to withhold sex if he didn’t comply.

Wyatt was sitting right in the front—not that there were a lot of rows, there were only a dozen of them here—and had the perfect view as Michelle asked Flynn and Lucy to clasp hands. Michelle said a few words, talking about how they were all here to watch two people they all loved very dearly reaffirm their commitment to one another, and then invited Lucy and Flynn to say a few words themselves.

Lucy was smiling fit to burst, like she might start giggling wildly at any moment. But her voice, when she spoke, was soft. “Garcia. I… I know you hear me say it every day because I really do try to say it every time I think it and it feels like I’m thinking it constantly, but I love you. And there were times where I’d wonder if I was going to say something too crazy and you’d realize I wasn’t what you really wanted and you’d leave, because—because the idea of someone loving me as much as you do seemed so insane to me. I didn’t understand what I’d done to deserve that devotion. And I’ll be honest, I still don’t. But I’m grateful for it because I love you, so much, more than words, more than anything and it feels like our hearts have known each other over and over and over again and I’m just—I’m just so glad that you feel that way, too. And I’m starting to really believe that no matter what happens, you won’t leave, because let’s face it. I told you time travel existed, I told you I worked as a dominatrix, I asked my sister to be our surrogate, and I asked if you wanted to bring a third person into our relationship, and you only mildly freaked out at the first one.”

Wyatt snorted. _Stole a time machine_ was a bit more than a ‘mild’ freak out and he was there when they’d all learned about Lucy’s line of work in college. Flynn had looked like he’d been run over by a train.

He overheard Stacy asking what Lucy meant by time travel and Jess replying not to worry about it.

“I love you,” Lucy repeated. “And I’m going to keep loving you for the rest of my life, and beyond that.”

Flynn looked like he might just say fuck the vows and kiss her then and there, but he managed to clear his throat and hold his course. “Lucy.” He stopped and shook his head ruefully. “ _Moja ljubav, moja draga, moja žena_. You gave me back my life, you gave me back—everything. All I can see when I look back are the reasons you shouldn’t be with me. My faults, my mistakes… but you are so determined to love people, and so determined to see good in them, to see more in them than they see in themselves. I’ve seen you do it throughout history, and you did it with me. I would follow you anywhere.” He raised their joined hands up, kissing her knuckles. “No matter how crazy the idea might seem to you. _Volim te, je t’aime,_ I love you. I could say it in every language for eternity and it wouldn’t be enough. I cannot heave my heart into my mouth.”

Wyatt saw Mason grin at the Shakespeare quote.

“And I think you need to give yourself more credit,” Flynn added. “Because when you suggested this particular idea, I was thinking of it myself.”

Then they both turned and looked at Wyatt.

Wyatt realized that everyone was grinning knowingly at him, and he had the distinct feeling that he’d been had.

Lucy let go of Flynn’s hand and reached out. “Come here, sweetheart,” she said softly.

In a daze, Wyatt stood up and went over to her. They each took one of his hands. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Logan?” Stacy crowed. “You’re getting hitched.”

“What?”

“We know it isn’t legal,” Lucy whispered. “But we have you listed as the twins’ other father anyway, and we wanted to do something… official.”

Flynn squeezed his hand and Wyatt thought he might faint. Michelle smiled and winked at him. “Dearly beloved,” she announced, “as all of you already know except for apparently the guy they’re doing it with, we are gathered here today to join these three people…”

Wyatt honestly didn’t hear the rest of what she said. It was a blur as he held onto Flynn and Lucy’s hands for all he was worth. Of course he wore their ring, every day, and of course he was listed as the other father for the twins (California law allowed for up to four parents listed on a child’s birth certificate, and since Amy and Jess would take care of the twins should anything happen to Wyatt, Flynn, and Lucy, and she was already their birth mother, Amy was listed as the fourth person).

But he’d never thought… he’d never dreamed that Flynn and Lucy would want to make a big public hoopla about it, that they’d want to have a ceremony and everything, declare it to the world like that.

Yet now he was standing here, with the two most amazing people in the world, and they were _marrying him_.

“Wyatt,” Lucy said. “Look at me.”

He raised his eyes to hers, and Lucy smiled. “Sweetheart. You’ve come so far and you’ve grown so much. I’m so proud of you and the man you’ve become. A man that I love so, so much. A man I’m proud to call one of the fathers of my children, one of my husbands, one of my partners. I get scared sometimes that you’ll change your mind and leave or that you’ll doubt this, us, and you don’t, and I’m grateful for it and for your faith in us, I truly, truly am. We asked you to take the biggest leap of faith you ever have, and you did it and you trusted us to catch you. You’re not extra. You’re not a luxury or a bonus. You are an indispensable part of our lives, and we wanted you to know that. So I don’t care what the law might say or what we put on the tax forms. You’re ours, and we’re yours, and it’s going to be that way for the rest of our lives.”

She let go of both Wyatt and Flynn’s hands so that she could gently cup Wyatt’s face and kiss him.

Wyatt just about melted. He felt like he was floating, like this had to be a dream, not entirely real.

“I didn’t say you could kiss the groom yet,” Michelle pointed out.

Lucy laughed against Wyatt’s lips, pulling away. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.

Michelle looked at Flynn, who appeared to be struggling to hold in laughter. But then he looked at Wyatt, and his face grew soft and serious. “I know what it’s like to doubt that you’re worthy of love,” he said. “And I don’t ever want you to doubt that. I want you to know that you’ll always be a part of our lives. That we will always want you to be a part of them, and that nothing could ever change that. You were a sneaky bastard who went from someone we could tolerate to someone I can’t see myself living without, someone I wake up and see every morning and think _thank God, he’s still here_. I love you, until the stars wink out.”

Jesus Christ, who just casually said things like that? Flynn, that was who.

Michelle said something, and Wyatt realized she was asking if he wanted to marry these two.

“Yes,” he managed to choke out. God, yes, a thousand, a hundred thousand times, over and over, yes, always. “Fuck, you guys are the worst, I don’t have anything prepared. I just—fuck.” He shook his head, laughing a little as his eyes stung. “I worked—I worked hard to become someone that the people around me deserved to have in their lives but I’m still not sure what I did to earn—to earn this, to earn you two. You’re the best goddamn people I’ve ever met and I just feel like the lucky son of a bitch who gets to hang around. But I’m starting to understand that—even if it seems crazy to me—you two want me to stay. And you two really do love me, and you aren’t going to kick me out for singing ‘Wagon Wheel’ off-key in the shower.”

Flynn rolled his eyes fondly while Lucy laughed.

“I—I love you guys.” Wyatt swallowed, his throat and voice growing thick and rough. “I don’t know how else to say it even if those words don’t feel like enough. I’m the luckiest idiot in the world. I love you. I always will.”

Michelle smiled. “I would like to pronounce you three as married. _Now_ you can kiss.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at Michelle as Flynn pulled Wyatt in, kissing him. Wyatt struggled not to burst out into hysterical laughter, and then Lucy was kissing him, and Flynn was kissing him again, and everyone was making jokes and cheering and clapping, and it was delightful, utterly wonderful chaos.

Joy was with Jess and Amy that night, and Wyatt complimented her on keeping the secret. “I did a real good job, right Daddy?” she asked, grinning as he swung her around.

“The best, ladybug, I had no idea.”

Joy hugged him tightly, and fuck, he loved his daughter.

The twins went down easy for once—well, Ethan always went to bed easily. Maria was a toss-up. But Flynn sang her a Croatian lullaby and she settled into sleep, and then the three adults could collapse into bed themselves.

“I hate you two,” Wyatt pronounced as Lucy finished brushing her teeth and Flynn crawled into bed next to him. “I had no clue.”

“That was the point,” Flynn drawled, lying down and draping an arm over Wyatt.

Wyatt grumbled but let himself be manhandled until Flynn’s chest was pressed against his back and Flynn’s arm was securely around Wyatt’s waist.

Lucy pounced on her pillow. “Sleep,” she moaned. “We are not planning another party for at least a year.”

“It was your idea,” Wyatt pointed out as she snuggled into him, tucking her head under his chin.

“And worth it,” Lucy murmured.

Wyatt held on tightly—held onto his husband and his wife. And he was thinking about all of it, all of the crazy ups and downs, the misunderstandings, the hiccups and the heartache, the sex and the kinks and the cuddles and everything in between, when he said, “Yeah. So worth it.”


End file.
